RUSSELL'S  BOOK  STOKL 

633  WEST  8th  ST. 
LOS  ANGELES, 


WHEAT  AND   HUCKLEBERRIES 


BOOKS   BY   CHARLOTTE   M.   VAILE. 


THE  ORCUTT  GIRLS  ;  OR,  ONE  TERM  AT  THE  ACAD- 
EMY. 315  pages.  Five  full-page  Illustrations  by  FRANK 
T.  MERRILL.  Cloth.  i2mo.  $1.50. 

SUE  ORCUTT.  A  SEQUEL  TO  "  THE  ORCUTT  GIRLS." 
335  pages.  Five  full-page  Illustrations  by  FRANK  T. 
MERRILL.  Cloth.  i2mo.  $1.50. 

THE  M.  M.  C.  A  STORY  OF  THE  GREAT  ROCKIES.  232 
pages.  Six  full-page  Illustrations  by  SEARS  GALLAGHER. 
Cloth.  8vo.  $1.00. 

WHEAT  AND  HUCKLEBERRIES;  OR,  DR.  NORTH- 
MORE'S  DAUGHTERS.  336  pages.  Five  full-page  Illustra- 
tions by  ALICE  BARBER  STEPHENS.  Cloth.  I2mo.  $1.50. 


MORTON  FOUND  TIME  TO  ANSWER  ALL  HER  QUESTIONS.' 


WHEAT  AND  HUCKLEBERRIES 


OR 


DR.    NORTHMORE'S    DAUGHTERS 

BY 

CHARLOTTE   M.   VAILE 

ILLUSTRATED  BY 
ALICE   BARBER  STEVENS 


3 


BOSTON   AND  CHICAGO 
W.   A.   WILDE   COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  1899, 

BY  W.  A.  WILDE  COMPANY. 

All  rights  reserved. 


WHEAT  AND  HUCKLEBERRIES. 


To  J.  F.  V. 


TOO  SLIGHT  TO  BE  AN   OFFERING  TO   HIM,   BUT  WRITTEN 

IN   DEAR  REMEMBRANCE  OF  HIS    EARLY  HOME 

AND   OF    MINE 

Cs  iLobtnglg  UeBicateB 

C.  M.  V. 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    HARVEST  AT  THE  FARM 11 

II.    TALKING  IT  OVER 40 

III.  BETWEEN  TIMES 59 

IV.  AT  THE  OLD  PLACE 75 

V.    AUNT  KATHARINE  SAXON 100 

VI.  AUNT  KATHARINE — Continued        ....     130 

VII.      HUCKLEBERRYING 147 

VIII.    A  PAIR  OF  CALLS 162 

IX.  A  GLIMPSE  FROM  THE  INSIDE         .        .        .        .180 

X.    SOME  BITS  OF  POETRY 196 

XI.  AN  OUTING  AND  AN  INVITATION      .        .        .        .213 

XII.    WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK 226 

XIII.  INTO  THE  WEST  AGAIN 246 

XIV.  THE  NABOB  MAKES  AN  IMPRESSION         .        .        .    258 
XV.  ESTHER  GOES  TO  PRAYER-MEETING         .        .        .281 

XVI.  IN  WHICH  SEVERAL  PEOPLE  GET  HOME          .        .    307 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


"  MORTON  FOUND  TIME  TO  ANSWER  ALL  HER  QUESTIONS  "  PAGE 

Frontispiece  32 

"  HE  LEANED  ON  THE  GATE  WHEN   HE  HAD  OPENED  IT  FOR  THE 

GIRLS" 69 

"  SHE  OPENED  THE  DOOR  IN  PERSON  " IO8 

"TOM  AND  KATE  WATCHED  THEM  GO" 180 

"  '  IT    HAS    BEEN     DELIGHTFUL    TO     SEE    YOU     IN    THIS    LOVELY    OLD 

HOME '  "                                                ...                                              .  282 


WHEAT  AND   HUCKLEBERRIES. 

CHAPTER   I. 

HARVEST   AT   THE   FARM. 

JUST  how  Dr.  Philip  Northmore  came  to  be  the  owner 
*J  of  a  farm  had  never  been  quite  clear  to  his  fellow- 
townsmen.  That  he  had  bought  it — that  pretty  stretch 
of  upland  five  miles  from  Rushmore  —  in  some  settle- 
ment with  a  friend,  who  owed  him  more  money  than  he 
could  ever  pay,  was  the  open  fact,  but  how  the  doctor 
had  believed  it  to  be  a  good  investment  for  himself  was 
the  question.  The  opportunity  to  pay  interest  on  a 
mortgage  and  make  improvements  on  those  charming 
acres  at  the  expense  of  his  modest  professional  income 
was  the  main  part  of  what  he  got  out  of  it.  The  doc- 
tor, as  everybody  knew,  had  no  genius  for  making 
money. 

However,  he  had  never  lamented  his  purchase.  On 
the  principle  perhaps  which  makes  the  child  who  draws 
most  heavily  on  parental  care  the  object  of  dearest 


12  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

affection,  this  particular  possession  seemed  to  be  the 
one  on  which  the  good  doctor  prided  himself  most.  Its 
fine  location  and  natural  beauty  were  points  on  which 
he  grew  eloquent,  and  he  sometimes  referred  to  its 
peaceful  cultivation  as  the  employment  in  which  he 
hoped  to  spend  his  own  declining  years,  an  expectation 
which  it  is  safe  to  say  none  of  his  acquaintances  shared 
with  him. 

So  much  for  Dr.  Northmore's  interest  in  the  farm. 
It  had  a  peculiar  interest  for  the  feminine  part  of  his 
household  in  the  early  days  of  July,  when  wheat  harvest 
had  come  and  the  threshing  machine  was  abroad  in  the 
land.  It  was  too  much  to  expect  of  Jake  Erlock,  the 
tenant  at  the  farm,  who,  since  his  wife's  death  had  lived 
there  alone,  that  he  would  provide  meals  for  the  score 
of  threshers  who  would  bring  the  harvesting  appetite  to 
the  work  of  the  great  day.  Clearly  this  fell  to  the 
Northmores,  and  the  doctor's  wife  had  risen  to  the  part 
with  her  own  characteristic  energy.  But  for  once,  on 
the  very  eve  of  the  threshing,  she  found  herself  facing 
a  sudden  embarrassment.  Relatives  from  a  distance 
had  made  their  unexpected  appearance  as  guests  at  her 
house,  and  to  leave  them  behind,  or  take  them  into  the 
crowded  doings  at  the  farm,  seemed  alike  impossible. 
The  prompt  proposal  of  her  daughters,  that  they,  with 
the  combined  wisdom  of  their  seventeen  and  nineteen 


HARVEST    AT    THE    FARM.  13 

years,  should  manage  the  harvest  dinner,  hardly  seemed 
a  plan  to  be  adopted,  and  would  have  found  scant  atten- 
tion but  for  the  unlooked-for  support  it  received  from 
one  of  the  neighbors. 

"  Now  why  don't  you  let  'em  do  it  ? "  said  Mrs.  El- 
well,  who  had  happened  in  at  the  doctor's  an  hour  after 
the  arrival  of  the  guests.  "You've  got  everything 
planned  out,  of  course,  and  there'll  be  lots  of  the  neigh- 
bor women  in  to  help.  There  always  is." 

She  caught  the  look  of  entreaty  in  the  eyes  of  the 
girls  and  the  doubt  in  the  eyes  of  their  mother,  and 
added,  "  Now  I  think  of  it,  I  could  go  out  there  myself 
just  as  well  as  not.  There  isn't  anything  so  very  much 
going  on  at  our  house  to-morrow,  and  I'd  be  right  glad 
to  take  a  hand  in  it.  I'll  risk  it  but  what  the  girls  and 
I  can  manage." 

Manage !  There  was  no  question  on  that  score. 
Mrs.  Northmore's  eyes  grew  moist  and  she  opened  her 
lips  to  speak,  but  her  good  friend  was  before  her,  her 
pleasant  face  at  that  moment  the  express  image  of 
neighborly  kindness.  "  Now,  with  all  you've  done  for 
us,  you  and  the  doctor,  to  make  a  fuss  over  a  little 
thing  like  this  !  "  she  said.  And  Mrs.  Northmore,  with 
the  grace  which  can  receive  as  well  as  render  a  favor, 
accepted  the  offer  without  a  protest. 

That  was  how  it  happened  that  Esther  and  Kate 


14  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

Northmore  went  to  the  harvesting  at  the  farm,  in 
their  mother's  stead,  the  next  morning.  Kate,  at  least, 
carried  no  anxiety,  but  Esther,  as  the  older,  could  not 
lay  aside  some  uneasiness,  not  so  much  lest  things 
should  go  wrong  as  lest  their  generous  friend  might 
be  too  much  burdened,  and  the  thought  of  all  there 
was  to  do  lent  an  unusual  gravity  to  her  sensitive 
face. 

It  was  a  perfect  July  day,  with  the  sky  an  unbroken 
blue  except  for  the  clouds  which  floated  like  golden 
chaff  high  in  the  zenith.  The  great  machine,  flaming 
in  crimson  against  a  background  of  gold,  stood  among 
the  ripened  sheaves,  and  a  score  of  sunburned  men 
urged  the  labor  which  had  begun  betimes. 

Ah,  there  is  no  harvest  like  this  of  the  wheat.  It 
comes  when  the  year  is  at  its  flood,  and  the  sun, 
rejoicing  as  a  strong  man  to  run  a  race,  holds  long 
on  his  course  against  the  slow-creeping  night.  What 
ingathering  of  the  later  months,  when  the  days  have 
grown  short  and  chilly,  can  match  it  in  joy  ?  The  one 
is  like  the  victory  that  comes  in  youth,  when  the  success 
of  to-day  seems  the  promise  for  to-morrow ;  the  other  is 
the  reward  that  comes  to  the  worn  and  enfeebled  man, 
who  whispers  in  the  midst  of  his  gladness  :  "  How  slight 
at  best  are  the  gains  of  life !  " 

Esther  was  too  young  to  moralize  and  too  busy  with 


HARVEST    AT    THE    FARM.  15 

the  very  practical  work  of  helping  with  the  dinner  to 
grow  poetical  over  the  harvest  scene,  but  the  beauty 
of  it  did  hold  her  for  a  minute  with  a  long  admiring 
gaze  as  she  stood  by  the  well,  where  she  had  gone  for 
a  pitcher  of  fresh  water. 

A  man  in  gray  jeans  had  hurried  from  the  edge  of 
the  field  at  sight  of  her,  to  lower  the  buckets  hanging 
from  the  old-fashioned  windlass.  She  detained  him  a 
moment  when  he  had  handed  her  the  dripping  pitcher. 

"  We  couldn't  have  had  a  better  day  than  this,  could 
we  ? "  she  said.  "  And  what  a  good  thing  it  is  that 
you  and  father  decided  to  put  in  the  wheat !  He  was 
speaking  of  that  at  breakfast  this  morning,  and  he  says 
it  was  all  your  doing.  There  was  such  a  poor  crop  last 
year  that  for  his  part  he  was  almost  afraid  to  try  it 
again." 

The  man's  face  shone  with  gratified  pride.  "  Well,  I 
reckon  the  doctor  ain't  fretting  over  it  much  now  that 
I  had  my  way,"  he  said.  And  then  he  added  mod- 
estly :  "  But  I  might  have  missed  it.  You  never  can 
tell  how  a  crop'll  come  out  till  you  see  the  grain  in 
the  measure." 

"Well,  we're  seeing  that  to-day,"  said  the  girl. 
"  How  much  will  there  be  ? " 

"We  can't  rightly  tell  till  it's  all  threshed  out," 
said  the  man;  "but  Tom  Balcom  'lows  it'll  average 


l6  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

as  well's  anything  they've  threshed,  and  they've  had 
thirty-five  bushels  to  the  acre." 

Figures  did  not  mean  much  to  Esther,  but  her 
"Oh!"  had  a  note  of  appreciation.  Then,  as  he 
was  turning  away,  she  said  earnestly :  "  I  hope  we 
shall  have  a  good  dinner  for  you,  Mr.  Erlock. 
Mother  was  ever  so  sorry  she  couldn't  come  out  to- 
day herself;  I  believe  she  was  afraid  you  wouldn't 
fare  as  well  as  you  ought  without  her.  But  Mrs.  El- 
well  came,  and  between  us  all  we  won't  let  you 
suffer." 

"  I  hain't  a  bit  o'  doubt  about  the  victuals  being 
good,"  said  the  man,  gallantly.  "  I  hope  you  found 
things  all  right  in  the  house.  I  tried  to  red  up  a 
little  for  you." 

"  Oh,  everything  was  in  beautiful  order,  and  the 
women  are  all  praising  your  good  housekeeping," 
said  Esther,  smiling. 

He  looked  at  once  pleased  and  embarrassed.  "I 
did  the  best  I  could,"  he  said,  then  turned  with  an 
awkward  nod  and  hurried  again  to  his  work. 

She  remembered  hers  too,  and  hastened  with  her 
pitcher  back  to  the  house.  It  was  a  one-story  frame, 
with  gray  shingled  sides  and  a  deep  drooping  roof 
whose  forward  projection  formed  a  porch  across  the 
entire  front.  Ordinarily  it  wore  an  expression  of  shy 


HARVEST    AT    THE    FARM.  \f 

reserve,  but  to-day,  with  doors  and  windows  open, 
and  the  hum  of  voices  sounding  through  and  round 
it,  it  seemed  to  have  taken  a  new  interest  in  life 
and  looked  a  willing  part  of  the  cheerful  scene. 

The  kitchen  which  the  girl  entered  was  full  of 
country  women,  so  full  indeed  that  it  seemed  a  won- 
der they  could  accomplish  any  work,  but  every  one 
was  busy  except  a  young  woman  with  a  baby  in  her 
arms,  who  sat  complacently  watching  the  labors  of 
the  others. 

It  is  the  neighborly  fashion  in  the  middle  West 
for  the  women  of  adjoining  farms  to  help  each  other 
in  the  labors  of  this  busiest  time  in  the  year,  and 
the  custom  had  not  been  omitted  to-day  because  there 
was  no  one  to  return  the  service.  It  was  rendered 
willingly  as  ever,  partly  from  regard  for  Dr.  North- 
more,  and  partly  from  sympathy  with  the  lonely 
householder  who  managed  his  farm. 

"I  had  to  stop  and  talk  a  minute  with  Jake  Er- 
lock,"  said  Esther,  apologetic  for  her  slight  loitering 
now  that  she  felt  the  hurry  of  the  work  again.  "He 
came  up  to  draw  the  water  for  me,  and  you  ought 
to  have  seen  him  blush  when  I  told  him  you  all 
thought  he  was  a  good  housekeeper." 

"  Well,  if  he  has  any  doubt  what  we  think  on  that 
point,  he'd  better  come  in  here  and  we'll  tell  him," 
c 


1 8  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

said  a  woman  who  was  grinding  coffee  at  a  mill 
fixed  to  the  wall.  "  I  don't  believe  there's  another 
man  in  this  township  that  would  manage  as  well  as 
he  does.  I  wouldn't  answer  for  the  way  things 
would  look  at  our  house  if  'twas  my  man  that  had 
the  running  of  'em." 

Groans  and  headshakings  followed  this  remark. 
Apparently  none  of  the  women  present  felt  any  con- 
fidence in  the  ability  of  their  respective  men  to  run 
the  domestic  machinery. 

"Well,  Mis'  Erlock  was  a  mighty  good  house- 
keeper herself,"  observed  one  of  them.  "  And  I 
reckon  Jake  thinks  it  wouldn't  be  showing  proper  re- 
spect to  her  memory  to  let  everything  go  at  loose 
ends  now  she's  gone.  I  tell  you,  Jake's  an  uncom- 
mon good  man  in  more  ways  than  one.  'Tain't  every- 
body that  would  stay  single  as  long  as  he  has,  but 
that's  just  what  I  expected  from  the  feelings  he 
showed  at  the  funeral,  and  it  coming  so  long  after- 
ward too." 

A  murmur  of  assent  showed  that  the  speaker  was  not 
the  only  one  who  remembered  the  emotion  of  the  be- 
reaved man  on  that  mournful  occasion,  which,  as  had 
been  suggested,  occurred  some  time  after  his  wife's 
death,  the.  delay  of  the  sermon  devoted  to  her  memory 
being  occasioned,  as  often  happens  in  country  districts 


HARVEST    AT    THE    FARM.  19 

of  the  West  and  South,  by  the  absence  of  the  preacher 
proper,  whose  extended  circuit  gives  him  but  a  portion 
of  the  year  in  one  place. 

"  Well,  'twas  to  his  credit,  of  course,"  observed  an 
elderly  woman  who  was  shelling  peas ;  "  but  I  must  say 
I  don't  like  this  way  of  putting  off  the  funeral  so  long. 
I  think  burying  people  and  preaching  about  'em  ought 
to  go  together,  and  if  you  can't  have  your  own  preacher, 
you'd  better  put  up  with  somebody  else,  or  go  without." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  the  young  woman 
with  the  baby.  "It  looks  to  me  as  if  folks  were  in  a 
mighty  hurry  to  get  the  last  word  said  when  they  can't 
wait  for  the  right  one  to  say  it.  I  shouldn't  want  my 
husband  to  be  so  keen  to  get  through  with  it  all,  if  'twas 
me  that  was  taken." 

"  Maybe  you'd  want  him  to  do  like  the  man  that  took 
his  second  wife  to  hear  his  first  wife's  funeral,"  retorted 
the  other. 

The  defender  of  local  custom  admitted,  in  the  midst 
of  a  general  laugh,  that  this  was  carrying  it  too  far,  and 
then  the  conversation  turned  on  the  probability  of  Jake 
Erlock's  marrying  again,  the  various  suitable  persons  to 
be  found  should  he  feel  so  inclined,  and  the  importance 
in  general  of  men  having  some  one  to  take  care  of 
them,  and  of  women  having  men  and  their  houses  to 
take  care  of. 


2O  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

The  subject  which,  with  its  ramifications,  seemed 
fairly  inexhaustible  was  making  Kate  Northmore  yawn 
and  had  fairly  driven  Esther  from  the  room,  when  a 
young  man  with  a  bright,  sunburned  face  and  a  pair  of 
straight,  broad  shoulders  looked  in  at  the  window. 

"  My,  how  good  it  smells  in  here  !  "  he  exclaimed  in  a 
voice  that  went  well  with  the  face.  "  What  all  are 
we  going  to  have  for  dinner,  Aunt  Jenny  ?  " 

Mrs.  Elwell,  who  was  testing  the  heat  of  the  oven  on 
a  plump  bare  arm,  turned  a  flushed  face  and  motherly 
smile  on  the  speaker. 

"  Everything  nice,"  she  said.  "  You  never  saw  a  bet- 
ter dinner  than  the  girls  have  brought  out  for  you. 
What  do  you  say  to  fried  chicken,  and  new  potatoes, 
and  green  peas,  with  pie  and  doughnuts  to  top  off,  and 
lots  of  other  good  things  thrown  in  extra  ? " 

The  young  man  smacked  his  lips  and  sent  a  devour- 
ing glance  around  the  room.  "  Say  !  "  he  repeated. 
"  Why,  I  say  it's  enough  to  make  a  fellow  feel  like  John 
Ridd  and  thank  the  Lord  for  the  room  there  is  in  him. 
When  are  you  going  to  give  us  a  chance  at  all  that  ? " 

"  When  the  bell  rings,  of  course,"  said  Kate  North- 
more,  looking  up  at  him  with  a  saucy  glance  from  the 
meal  she  was  sifting.  "  You  didn't  expect  to  get  any- 
thing to  eat  now,  I  hope." 

"  Oh,  not  anything  much,"  said  the  young  man,  help- 


HARVEST    AT    THE    FARM.  21 

ing  himself  to  a  doughnut  from  a  plate  which  stood 
within  easy  reach.  "  I  just  looked  in  to  tell  you  that 
while  you're  getting,  you'd  better  get  us  a  plenty. 
We're  a  fearful  hungry  crowd,  and  there  won't  be  much 
left  over ;  but  if  there  should  be,  it  might  come  in 
handy  to-morrow." 

"  To-morrow  !  "  repeated  Kate,  letting  the  meal  which 
was  whirling  under  her  hand  fall  level  in  the  pan. 
"  You  don't  mean  that  there's  any  danger  of  your  being 
here  to-morrow,  do  you  ?  " 

The  young  man  brushed  the  chaff  from  the  shoul- 
ders of  his  blue  flannel  shirt,  and  set  his  straw  hat 
a  little  further  on  the  back  of  his  head  before  he 
answered.  Kate's  "  To-morrow "  had  put  a  complete 
pause  on  the  talk  of  the  room,  and  every  woman  there 
was  looking  at  him  anxiously. 

"  Well,  I  wouldn't  really  say  that  there's  any  need  of 
worrying  about  it  yet"  he  said,  lowering  his  voice  to  a 
confidential  tone  ;  "  but  you  see  the  men  have  heard  that 
you  and  Esther  are  such  stunning  good  cooks  that  — 
well,  of  course,  I  don't  want  to  give  'em  away,  but  I 
don't  know  as  you  can  blame  'em  any  for  wanting  to 
make  the  work  hold  out  so  as  to  get  in  an  extra  meal 
or  two  here,  if  they  can.  That's  all." 

There  was  a  shout  at  this,  and  Mrs.  Elwell  said 
reproachfully,  "  Now,  Morton,  quit  your  fooling.  Aren't 


22  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

you  ashamed  of  yourself  to  come  scaring  the  girls  with 
your  talk  about  to-morrow  ?  Why,  we  thought  the 
machine  had  broken  down,  or  something  of  that  sort." 

He  did  look  a  little  conscience-smitten  just  then,  as 
Esther,  who  had  caught  some  hint  of  excitement  in 
the  dining  room,  where  she  was  setting  the  table,  ap- 
peared in  the  doorway,  looking  really  troubled.  Kate 
was  facing  him  with  a  different  expression. 

"  Well,  since  you're  so  anxious  about  to-morrow,  Mort 

'Elwell,  you  needn't  eat  any  more  of  those  doughnuts," 

she  said,  snatching  up  the  plate  toward  which  his  hand 

was  moving  a  second  time,  and  setting  it  out  of  his 

reach.     "We  may  want  them,  you  know." 

He  drew  down  his  face  to  an  injured  expression. 
"That's  the  way  you  treat  a  body,  is  it,  when  he  comes 
to  give  you  a  friendly  warning?  All  right,  I'll  go  now. 
I  see  I'm  not  wanted." 

He  shifted  his  position  as  he  spoke,  and  the  next 
moment  the  pitchfork,  on  which  he  had  been  leaning, 
was  thrust  through  the  window,  and  as  quickly  with- 
drawn, with  a  doughnut  sticking  on  every  point. 
"  Good-by,  Kate,"  he  shouted,  as  he  disappeared.  "  If 
the  doughnuts  don't  hold  out,  you  can  make  some 
cookies  for  to-morrow." 

He  had  the  best  of  it,  and  after  a  moment,  appar- 
ently, even  Kate  forgave  him,  "  the  rascal,"  as  she  called 


HARVEST   AT   THE    FARM.  23 

him,  with  a  toss  of  her  pretty  head.  And  then  the 
talk  of  the  kitchen  took  a  new  turn,  suggested  by  the 
thought  of  all  the  ills  which  would  have  followed  if  an 
accident  had  really  happened  to  the  machine.  There 
had  been  such  accidents  in  the  experience  of  most  of 
those  present,  and  they  were  recounted  now  with  much 
fulness  of  detail  and  some  rivalry  as  to  the  amount  of 
agony  endured  in  the  several  cases  by  the  workers  in 
the  culinary  department. 

"  It's  the  worst  thing  there  is  about  threshing,"  said 
the  woman  who  had  related  the  most  harrowing  tale 
of  all.  "  I  don't  care  how  many  men  there  are,  and 
I  don't  mind  cooking  for  'em,  and  setting  out  the  best 
I've  got, — seems  as  if  a  body  warn't  thankful  for  the 
crop  if  they  don't,  —  but  when  the  machine  gets  out  of 
order,  and  the  work  hangs  on,  and  you  have  the  men 
on  your  hands  for  three  or  four  days  running,  just  eat- 
ing you  out  of  house  and  home,  and  keeping  you  on 
the  jump  from  morning  to  night,  getting  things  on  the 
table  and  off  again,  I  tell  you  it's  something  awful." 

There  was  no  demur  to  this  sentiment,  but  there  was 
still  another  phase  of  distress  to  be  mentioned. 

"No,"  said  one  of  the  others,  "there  ain't  anything 
quite  as  bad  as  that,  but  it's  the  next  thing  to  it  to  have 
the  threshers  come  down  on  you  without  your  having 
fair  warning  that  they're  coming  I  never  will  forget 


24  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

what  a  time  we  had  last  year.  Abe  had  been  telling 
me  all  along  that  they  were  going  to  stack  the  wheat 
and  thresh  in  the  fall,  when  one  day,  'most  sundown, 
up  comes  the  threshing  machine  right  into  our  barn 
lot.  I  told  the  men  there  must  be  some  mistake,  but 
they  said,  no,  they'd  just  made  a  bargain  with  Abe,  and 
were  going  to  begin  on  our  wheat  in  the  morning.  I 
tell  you  I  was  that  mad  I  couldn't  see  straight.  Abe 
he  tried  to  smooth  it  over,  said  he  found  the  men  had 
been  thrown  out  at  one  place,  and  he  thought  he'd 
better  close  right  in  on  'em,  and  I  needn't  to  worry 
about  the  victuals  —  just  give  'em  what  I  had." 

She  paused  with  an  accent  of  inexpressible  contempt, 
and  covered  her  husband's  remarks  on  that  point  with 
the  words,  "  You  know  how  men  talk !  Why,  even  our 
side  meat  was  most  gone,  and  I  hadn't  a  single  chicken 
frying  size.  Well,  I  tell  you  I  didn't  let  the  grass 
grow  under  my  feet  nor  under  Abe's  neither.  I  made 
him  hitch  up  and  put  himself  into  town  the  liveliest 
ever  he  did,  and  what  with  me  sitting  up  most  all  night 
to  brown  coffee,  and  churn,  and  make  pies,  we  some- 
how managed  to  put  things  through.  I  was  plumb 
wore  out  when  'twas  all  over,  but  they  do  say  the  men 
bragged  all  the  rest  of  the  season  on  the  dinner  I 
gave  'em." 

Great  applause  followed  this  story,  and  an  elderly 


HARVEST    AT    THE    FARM.  25 

woman  remarked :  "  That's  one  good  thing  about  hav- 
ing the  threshers.  You're  sure  to  get  your  name  up 
for  a  good  cook  if  your  victuals  suit  the  men.  I'll 
warrant  you'll  get  a  recommend  after  to-day,  girls," 
she  said,  with  a  nod  at  Kate  and  Esther.  "  And  it 
ain't  a  bad  thing  to  have  at  your  age,"  she  added, 
with  a  knowing  wink. 

Esther  flushed,  with  a  look  of  annoyance,  but  Kate 
responded  gayly  :  "  All  right.  Don't  any  of  you  tell 
that  they  made  the  pies  and  doughnuts  at  home,  and 
don't  you  ever  let  it  out  that  you  fried  the  chickens, 
Mrs.  Elwell." 

There  was  a  sisterly  resemblance  between  the  two 
girls.  Each  was  fair,  with  dark  hair  and  eyes,  but 
Esther  was  generally  counted  the  prettier.  She  had 
a  delicate,  oval  face,  with  soft,  responsive  eyes,  and  a 
color  that  came  and  went  as  easily  as  ripples  in  a 
wheat-field ;  the  sort  of  face  which,  without  the  slight- 
est coquetry  of  expression,  was  almost  sure  to  hold 
and  draw  again  the  interested  glance  of  those  who 
met  her.  Kate's  was  of  the  commoner  type,  and  yet 
there  was  nothing  too  common  in  its  strong,  pleasant 
lines,  or  the  straightforward  frankness  of  her  ready 
smile. 

With  so  many  to  help,  the  preparations  for  dinner 
could  not  but  move  briskly.  At  sharp  twelve  o'clock 


26  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

the  farm  bell,  mounted  on  a  hickory  post  at  the  corner 
of  the  house,  rang  out  its  invitation,  and  almost  in- 
stantly the  engine  stopped  puffing,  the  whir  of  labor 
in  the  fields  slackened,  and  the  men  had  turned  their 
faces  toward  the  house.  They  were  not  a  company  of 
common  laborers.  Many  of  them  were  well-to-do  farm- 
ers, who  gave  their  services  here  in  repayment  or 
anticipation  of  similar  aid  in  their  own  time  of  need. 
Most  of  them  knew  the  Northmore  girls,  and  had  a 
friendly  greeting  for  Kate  as  they  passed  her,  standing 
by  the  swinging  bell. 

"Well,  Miss  Kate,"  said  one  of  them,  a  tall,  angular 
man,  who,  in  spite  of  his  office  in  the  district  as  the 
New  Light  preacher,  was  one  of  the  most  active  work- 
ers, "  I'll  wager  you  never  rang  a  bell  before  for  such 
a  hard-looking  crowd.  We're  '  knaves  that  smell  of 
sweat.'  But  there's  folks  that  look  better  in  worse 
business,  and  I  reckon  you  don't  mind  the  looks  of  us 
as  long  as  we  behave  ourselves.  How  many  do  you 
want  at  once  ?  I  s'pose  we  can't  all  sit  down  at  the 
first  table." 

"  Well,  then,"  broke  in  a  hearty  young  farmer,  with 
a  twinkle  in  his  eyes,  "  I  move  that  the  preacher  goes 
in  with  the  last  crowd.  We  don't  any  of  us  want  to 
run  our  chances  after  he  gets  through." 

"  Oh,"    said    the   preacher,  good-naturedly,   "  I    was 


HARVEST   AT   THE    FARM.  2/ 

calculating  to  wait,  anyhow.  Shan't  have  any  scruples 
then  against  taking  the  last  piece." 

"Well,  I'll  engage  that  the  last  piece  shall  be  as 
good  as  the  first,"  said  Kate;  "but  we  can't  give  more 
than  ten  of  you  elbow-room  at  once.  I  might  count 
'  Eeny,  meny,  miny,  mo,'  to  see  which  of  you  shall 
come  in  now,  but  there's  a  pan  of  corn-bread  in  the 
oven  that  I'm  watching,  and  I  think  you'd  better 
settle  it  yourselves." 

Apparently  there  was  no  difficulty,  for  in  an  extraor- 
dinarily short  space  of  time  the  toilets  made  at  the 
well  were  finished,  and  the  dinner  was  furnished  with 
guests.  Loaded  as  the  table  was  with  good  things, 
it  might  have  seemed  part  of  a  Thanksgiving  scene  but 
that  the  holiday  air  was  quite  wanting  to  the  men  who 
sat  around  it.  There  was  not  much  conversation. 
Some  observations  on  crops  and  the  price  of  wheat, 
or  an  occasional  bit  of  good-natured  raillery,  filled  the 
infrequent  pauses  in  the  business  of  eating,  but  the 
latter  was  carried  on  with  a  heartiness  which  spoke 
well  for  those  who  had  spread  the  feast. 

Outside,  however,  in  the  shadow  of  the  great  beech 
by  the  kitchen  door,  there  was  a  waiting  group  who 
found  time  for  talking,  and  the  preacher,  whose  long, 
lank  figure  was  stretched  in  the  midst,  was  easily  taking 
the  leading  part.  Some  remark  had  evidently  started 


28  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

him  on  a  train  of  reminiscences,  and  his  mellow,  half- 
drawling  tones  floated  through  the  kitchen  door,  and 
mingled  with  the  clatter  of  the  dishes. 

"  Yes,  there's  been  a  heap  o'  change  in  this  country 
since  I  came  here  twenty  years  ago.  'Twas  pretty 
much  all  timber  through  here  then,  and  there  warn't 
a  foot  o'  tile  in  this  end  o'  the  county.  I  hired  out  to 
old  Jim  Rader.  He  was  just  clearing  up  his  farm. 
Lord,  he  used  to  have  me  up  by  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  grubbing  stumps,  with  the  fog  so  thick  you 
couldn't  tell  stump  from  fog  before  you." 

"  I  reckon  you  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  ager 
'bout  that  time,"  observed  one  of  the  group  as  the 
preacher  paused. 

"Ague!  "  repeated  the  other,  raising  himself  on  his 
elbow  and  eying  the  speaker.  "Wall,  I  reckon!  If 
there's  any  kind  I  didn't  get  on  speaking  terms  with,  I'd 
like  to  know  the  name  of  it.  I've  had  the  third-day 
ague,  and  the  seventh-day  ague,  the  shaking  ague,  and 
the  dumb  ague — though  why  'twas  ever  called  'dumb' 
beats  me.  If  there's  anything  calculated  to  make  a 
man  open  his  mouth  and  express  his  mind  freely  on  the 
way  things  go  in  this  neck  o'  wilderness,  it's  that  partic- 
ular kind.  Lord!  My  bones  have  ached  so,  I'd  have 
given  any  man  a  black  eye  that  said  there  was  only 
two  hundred  of  'em.  However,  I  got  shet  of  it  at  last, 


HARVEST    AT    THE    FARM.  2Q 

taking  quinine.  Reckon  this  country  couldn't  have 
been  settled  up  without  quinine,  and  I  stayed  with 
Rader  two  years  and  helped  him  break  in  the  land. 
Didn't  like  the  business  much,  but  I  had  a  notion  in  my 
head  that  I  wanted  to  make  a  preacher  of  myself,  and 
I  didn't  quit  till  I  had  the  means  to  do  it.  Didn't  get 
over-much  schooling,  but  I  wouldn't  take  a  heap  for 
what  I  did  get.  Mort !  "  he  exclaimed,  turning  abruptly 
to  the  young  man  at  his  side,  "  how  have  you  been 
getting  on  at  college  ?  They  say  you're  going  to  stick 
right  to  it." 

"  I  haven't  had  to  give  up  yet,"  said  the  young  man, 
quietly ;  "  and  I  don't  think  it's  likely  any  part  of  the 
course  will  be  harder  than  the  first  two  years." 

"  Reckon  your  uncle  don't  come  down  very  heavy 
with  the  stamps  yet,"  said  the  preacher,  grimly. 

The  young  man  flushed.  "  'Tisn't  my  uncle's  busi- 
ness to  send  me  to  college,"  he  said ;  "  I  never  asked 
him  to." 

"  That's  right,  that's  right,"  said  the  preacher,  heartily. 
"  I  like  your  grit.  For  that  matter,  you  might  as  well 
spend  your  breath  trying  to  blow  up  a  rain  as  trying  to 
persuade  him  to  spend  any  money  on  schooling  that  he 
didn't  haf  to.  But  how  did  you  make  it  ?  You  must 
have  found  it  hard  pulling  at  first." 

"Oh,  at  first  I  sawed  wood,"  said  the  other,  lightly, 


3<D  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

"  and  I'll  own  that  was  hard  pulling.  Half  a  cord 
before  breakfast  is  a  pretty  fair  stint,  but  I  managed  to 
make  it.  After  that  'twas  different  things.  I  never 
had  any  trouble  getting  work.  It  was  one  man's  horse 
and  another  man's  lawn,  and  in  the  spring  I  had  a 
great  run  helping  the  women  at  house-cleaning.  Got 
quite  a  reputation  for  laying  carpets.  This  year  there 
hasn't  been  quite  as  much  variety  in  my  jobs,  for  I 
taught  school  in  the  winter." 

The  preacher's  sallow  face  was  tense  and  the  shrewd 
gray  eyes  gleamed  as  he  listened.  "You'll  do,  Mort 
Elwell! "  he  said.  "  If  I  was  a  betting  man,  I'd  bet  on 
you  and  take  all  the  chances  going." 

At  that  moment,  Mrs.  Elwell,  who  was  standing  in 
the  kitchen  doorway  for  a  moment's  rest  and  coolness, 
was  saying  to  Esther  Northmore,  with  a  little  sigh,  "  I 
don't  wonder  he  had  all  he  could  do  at  house-cleaning. 
If  he  knew  how  I  missed  him  last  spring!  There's 
nobody  'round  here  that  can  put  down  carpets  equal  to 
him."  And  then  she  sighed  again,  this  time  more 
heavily.  Every  one  knew  that  if  she  had  her  way,  her 
husband's  nephew,  who  had  grown  up  as  one  of  their 
own  family,  would  not  be  working  his  way  through 
college  in  this  stern  fashion. 

As  for  Morton  himself,  perhaps,  being  a  young 
fellow  not  much  given  to  talking  of  his  private  affairs 


HARVEST    AT    THE    FARM.  31 

in.  public,  he  was  glad  to  see  a  stream  of  men  issuing 
just  then  from  the  house,  and  it  was  but  a  few  minutes 
later  when  a  second  call  summoned  him  and  his  fellows 
to  their  places. 

It  was  hardly  an  hour  that  the  wheels  of  the  great 
machine  stood  still.  At  the  end  of  that  time  the 
workers  were  all  at  their  places  again.  And  now  that 
the  masculine  appetites  were  satisfied,  the  women  sat 
down  to  eat,  an  occupation  which  they  prolonged  far 
beyond  the  time  of  their  predecessors.  To  the  North- 
more  girls,  indeed,  it  seemed  as  if  it  would  never  be 
over,  but  there  came  an  end  to  it  at  last,  and  even  to 
the  washing  of  the  dishes. 

Esther  would  not  consent  to  the  proposal  of  the 
women  that  they  should  do  the  work  without  her,  but 
Kate  —  with  better  wisdom  perhaps  —  accepted  it  with 
the  frankest  pleasure.  She  was  a  girl  who  had  a 
healthy  curiosity  about  everything  that  went  on  around 
her,  and  no  one  was  surprised  to  see  her  presently 
standing  in  the  field,  beside  the  engine  that  made  the 
wheels  of  the  threshing  machine  go  round,  getting 
points  from  the  man  in  charge  as  to  how  they  did  it. 
After  that  an  invitation  from  Morton  Elwell,  who  was 
on  the  feed  board,  to  come  up  and  watch  the  work  from 
that  point  was  instantly  accepted,  amid  the  laughing 
approval  of  the  crowd.  For  her  sake  the  speed  of  the 


32  WHEAT   AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

work  was  slackened  a  little,  the  bundles  were  thrown 
from  the  loaded  wagon  more  slowly,  and  Morton  found 
time,  while  cutting  their  bands  and  thrusting  them  in  at 
their  place,  to  answer  all  her  questions. 

It  was  a  pretty  picture  she  made,  standing  in  her 
blue  gingham  dress  on  this  crimson  throne,  her  sun- 
bonnet  fallen  on  her  shoulders  and  her  dark  hair  blow- 
ing about  her  face,  but  she  knew  nothing  of  this. 
She  was  thinking  only  of  that  wonderful  machine, 
and  she  knew  before  she  left  her  place  how  it 
whirled  the  loosened  sheaves  from  sight,  rubbed  out 
the  grain  in  its  rough  iron  palms,  sent  the  free  clean 
wheat  in  a  rushing  stream  down  to  the  waiting  meas- 
ure, and  flung  out  the  broken  straw  to  be  caught  on 
the  pitchforks  of  the  laborers  behind  and  pressed  to 
its  place  on  the  growing  stack. 

There  was  an  exhilaration  in  it  not  to  be  dreamed 
of  by  her  sister,  who  glanced  at  her  occasionally  from 
the  kitchen  windows  and  wondered  how  she  could 
bear  to  be  in  the  midst  of  all  that  heat  and  noise. 
For  her  part,  she  was  quite  content  to  let  the  ma- 
chine stand  merely  as  part  of  the  picture.  And  per- 
haps for  her  it  wore  the  greater  dignity  from  her 
vague  idea  of  its  internal  workings. 

The  afternoon  wore  away  swiftly.  There  was  a 
five  o'clock  supper  to  be  served  to  the  men,  but  this 


HARVEST    AT    THE    FARM.  33 

was  not  the  elaborate  affair  the  dinner  had  been,  and 
by  sunset  of  the  long  bright  day  the  work  indoors 
and  out  had  been  brought  to  a  successful  finish. 
The  shining  stubble  of  the  field  lay  bare  except  for 
the  fresh  clean  straw  stack.  The  machine  was  rum- 
bling on  its  way  to  another  farm,  and  Jake  Erlock's 
kitchen  had  been  restored  to  a  state  of  order  equal 
to  that  in  which  his  kindly  neighbors  had  found  it. 

It  had  been  expected  that  Dr.  Northmore  would 
come  for  his  daughters,  but,  as  he  had  not  appeared 
when  the  work  was  finished,  they  accepted  the  offer 
of  a  ride  home  with  a  farmer  who  was  going  their 
way.  The  sight  of  them  sitting  in  the  big  Stude- 
baker  wagon  must  have  acted  as  a  prompter  to  Mor- 
ton Elwell's  memory,  for  he  suddenly  recalled  that 
he  had  an  important  errand  in  town,  and  proposed  to 
go  along  too,  a  proposal  to  which  the  owner  of  the 
wagon  agreed  with  the  greatest  good  will.  There 
was  not  a  chair  for  him,  —  the  girls  had  been  estab- 
lished in  the  only  two,  —  and  the  farmer  and  his  hired 
man  occupied  the  seat,  but  the  young  man  settled 
him  on  a  bundle  of  straw  in  the  bottom  of  the  wagon, 
with  an  air  of  supreme  content. 

They  were  old  comrades,  he  and  the  Northmore 
girls ;  the  girls  could  not  remember  the  time  when 
he  had  not  been  their  escort  and  champion,  their 


34  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

Fidus  Achates,  all  the  more  free  to  devote  himself  to 
their  service  because  he  had  no  sisters  or  even  girl 
cousins  of  his  own.  He  was  two  years  older  than 
either  of  them,  and  his  years  at  college  seemed  to 
make  him  older  still,  but  if  his  absence  had  made 
any  difference  in  the  perfect  freedom  of  their  rela- 
tions, he,  at  least,  had  not  guessed  it. 

"  Well,  you  girls  must  be  glad  to  be  through  with 
this,"  he  said,  as  the  team  started  at  a  rattling  pace 
down  the  road.  "  I  know  you're  awfully  tired." 

He  included  them  both  in  his  glance,  but  it  rested 
longest  on  Esther's  face,  which  certainly  looked  a 
little  weary  under  the  shadow  of  her  wide  straw  hat. 

"  You  must  be  tired  yourself,  Mort,"  she  said,  look- 
ing down  at  him.  "You've  been  working  ever  since 
daylight,  haven't  you  ?  " 

"Oh,  but  I'm  used  to  that,"  he  said  gayly,  "and 
this  is  new  business  for  you.  I  must  say,  though,  I 
never  saw  things  go  better.  There  won't  be  anybody 
round  here  to  beat  you  at  housekeeping  if  you  keep 
on  like  this." 

She  frowned  slightly.  "  It  was  your  aunt  who 
managed  everything,"  she  said ;  "all  we  did  was  to 
help  a  little:" 

"That  isn't  what  she'll  say  about  it,"  said  the 
young  man,  and  then  he  added  warmly :  "  but  my 


HARVEST    AT    THE    FARM.  35 

Aunt  Jenny's  a  host  wherever  you  put  her.  There^s 
no  doubt  about  that.  My,  what  a  good  place  this 
world  would  be  if  everybody  in  it  was  made  like 
her ! "  And  there  was  an  assent  to  this  which  ought 
to  have  made  the  good  woman's  ears  burn,  if  there 
is  any  truth  in  the  old  saying. 

For  a  while  the  talk  ran  lightly  on  the  incidents  of 
the  day ;  then  it  grew  more  personal,  and  plans  for 
the  summer  fell  under  discussion.  Morton's  were  all 
for  work.  He  was  of  age,  master  of  his  own  time,  and 
he  meant  to  make  a  good  sum  toward  the  expenses  of 
the  coming  year  at  college.  He  talked  of  his  hopes 
with  the  utmost  frankness,  and  then  questioned  of 
theirs  as  one  who  had  the  fullest  rights  of  friendship. 

"  Will  you  go  away  anywhere  ? "  he  asked ;  "  or  are 
you  going  to  stay  at  home  all  summer  ? " 

"  That  depends,"  said  Kate,  answering  for  both. 
"  We  may  go  up  to  Maxinkuckee  for  a  little  while ; 
but  what  we'd  like  to  do,  what  we'd  like  best  — " 
she  paused  upon  the  words  with  a  lifting  of  her 
hands  and  the  drawing  of  a  long  ecstatic  breath, 
"would  be  to  make  a  visit  at  grandfather's.  You 
can't  think  how  he's  urging  us  to  come." 

"  Do  you  mean  go  to  New  England  ?  "  he  exclaimed, 
sitting  up  straight  on  his  bundle  of  straw. 

"Yes,   to   mother's   old   home,"    said    Kate.      "Just 


36  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

think,  we  haven't  been  there  since  we  were  little 
girls.  Mother's  been  trying  to  persuade  grandfather 
to  come  out  here,  but  he  says  he's  too  old  to  make 
the  journey,  and  that  we  must  come  there.  He  has 
fairly  set  his  heart  on  it." 

"And  so  have  the  others  too,"  said  Esther,  "Stella's 
letters  have  been  full  of  it  for  the  last  six  months." 

"  Stella's  that  cousin  of  yours  who's  such  an  artist, 
isn't  she  ? "  said  Morton.  He  was  looking  extremely 
interested. 

"  Oh,  she's "  an  artist  and  everything  else  that's 
lovely,"  said  Esther.  "I  don't  suppose  you  ever  saw 
the  kind  of  girl  that  she  is.  She  has  a  studio  in 
Boston  in  the  winters.  She  sent  me  a  picture  of  it 
once,  and  it's  perfectly  charming.  And  only  think, 
she's  been  in  Europe  twice  —  once  she  was  studying 
over  there.  And  she's  seen  those  wonderful  old 
places  and  the  famous  pictures,  and  been  a  part  of 
everything  that's  beautiful." 

"That's  the  sort  of  thing  you'd  like  to  do  your- 
self, I  suppose,"  said  the  young  man,  drawing  a 
wisp  of  straw  slowly  through  his  fingers. 

"  Like  it !  "  she  cried.  "  To  travel,  to  study,  to  see 
beautiful  things,  to  hear  beautiful  music,  and  to  be 
in  touch  every  day  with  charming,  cultivated  people ! 
Oh,  if  I  had  half  a  chance,  wouldn't  I  take  it ! " 


HARVEST    AT    THE    FARM.  37 

There  was  something  very  wistful  in  her  voice  as 
she  said  it,  but  not  more  wistful  than  the  look  that 
came  into  Morton  Elwell's  eyes  at  that  moment.  He 
turned  them  away  from  her  face,  and  the  rattle  of 
the  big  wagon  filled  the  silence. 

"You  ought  to  show  Mort  that  picture  of  Stella 
you  got  the  other  day,"  said  Kate,  suddenly. 

Esther  took  a  letter  from  her  pocket.  "  I  brought  it 
out  to  the  farm  to-day  on  purpose  to  show  your  aunt," 
she  said,  and  she  handed  him  a  photograph  which  he 
regarded  for  a  moment  with  a  bewildered  expression. 

"Why,  it  looks  like  a  picture  of  Greek  statuary," 
he  said;  "one  of  the  old  goddesses,  or  something  of 
that  sort." 

"That's  just  the  way  she  meant  to  have  it  look," 
said  Esther,  triumphantly.  "  You  see  how  artistic 
she  is." 

The  young  man  still  looked  mystified.  "  But  is 
her  hair  really  white,  like  that  ? "  he  asked. 

"Why,  of  course  not,"  said  Esther,  in  a  rather 
disgusted  tone.  "  She  powdered  it  and  did  it  in  a 
low  coil  for  the  sake  of  the  picture.  Then  she  put 
the  white  folds  over  her  shoulders  to  make  it  look 
like  a  bust  against  the  dark  background,  and  she 
had  the  lights  and  shadows  arranged  to  give  just  the 
right  effect.  Isn't  it  exquisite  ? " 


38  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

"  I  can't  say  I  admire  it,"  said  the  young  man, 
grimly;  "I'd  rather  see  people  look  as  if  they  were 
made  of  flesh  and  blood." 

Kate  laughed.  She  had  privately  expressed  the 
same  opinion  herself,  but  she  did  not  choose  to  en- 
courage him  in  criticising  her  relatives. 

"You're  an  insensible  Philistine,  Mort  Elwell,"  she 
said,  with  a  sly  glance  at  her  sister.  "  That's  what 
Stella'd  call  you,  and  she  knows." 

The  point  of  the  taunt  was  lost  on  the  young  man, 
but  he  had  an  impression,  derived  from  early  les- 
sons in  the  Sabbath  School,  that  the  Philistines 
were  a  race  of  heathen  idolaters,  and  he  ~esented  the 
charge  with  spirit. 

"  You'd  better  call  your  cousin  the  Philistine,"  he  re- 
torted ;  "  I'm  sure  I  have  no  liking  for  graven  images." 

This  was  too  much  for  Esther.  She  snatched  the 
picture  from  his  hand  and  bent  a  look  of  admiration 
upon  the  shapely  white  head,  with  its  classic  profile 
and  downcast  eyes,  which  made  ample  amends  for 
the  cold  scrutiny  to  which  it  had  just  been  subjected. 

"  It  is  perfectly  beautiful,"  she  said,  with  slow 
emphasis ;  "  I  don't  see  how  you  can  be  unappre- 
ciative." 

Morton  did  not  press  his  obnoxious  opinion.  He 
grew  rather  silent,  and  except  for  an  occasional 


HARVEST    AT    THE    FARM.  39 

sally  from  Kate,  conversation  was  at  a  low  ebb  for 
the  rest  of  the  way. 

Meanwhile  the  sunset  flamed  and  faded  in  the 
west.  The  evening  breeze  sprang  up,  and  cool, 
restful  shadows  fell  on  the  wide,  rich  landscape. 

"  Home  at  last !  "  cried  Kate,  as  a  bend  in  the  road 
brought  them  suddenly  upon  a  house  of  the  colonial 
style,  shaded  by  fine  old  trees,  at  the  edge  of  town. 
"And  there's  mother  in  the  doorway  looking  for  us." 


CHAPTER   II. 

TALKING    IT    OVER. 

MRS.  NORTHMORE  was  at  the  gate  to  greet  her 
daughters  when  the  great  wagon  stopped. 

"We  knew  you  would  find  some  one  to  bring  you 
home,"  she  said,  smiling  up  at  them.  "  Your  father 
was  disappointed  that  he  couldn't  come  for  you  himself, 
but  he  took  our  friends  to  the  station,  and  then,  just  as 
he  was  ready  to  start  for  you,  he  was  called  to  the  other 
end  of  the  town.  Come  in,  Morton,"  she  added,  turn- 
ing to  the  young  man,  who  was  helping  the  girls  over 
the  wheel ;  "  I  must  have  a  full  account  of  the  doings 
to-day,  and  it  may  be  a  one-sided  report  if  I  have  only 
the  family  version  of  it." 

"  But  there  is  only  one  side,  Mrs.  Northmore,"  said 
the  young  man.  "  Everything  went  gloriously,  —  spe- 
cially the  dinner,  —  and  everybody  behaved  beautifully 
except  me.  Kate'll  tell  you  how  bad  I  was.  No,  I 
can't  stay.  There's  an  errand  I  must  do  before  dark." 

"I  shan't  take  anybody's  report  against _jw/,  Morton, 
unless  it's  your  own,  and  I'm  not  sure  that  I'll  admit 

40 


TALKING    IT    OVER.  41 

even  that,"  said  Mrs.  Northmore.  It  was  in  her  eyes  as 
well  as  her  voice  how  much  she  liked  the  big  brown  fel- 
low. "  Well,  if  you  must  go  —  but  come  and  see  us 
soon.  Don't  work  so  hard  this  summer  that  you'll  have 
no  time  for  your  friends." 

She  took  an  arm  of  each  of  the  girls  and  walked 
with  them  up  the  gravel  path  between  the  rows  of 
blossoming  catalpas.  "  So  th'e  day  has  gone  well  ? " 
she  said,  glancing  from  one  to  the  other. 

"  As  if  you  had  been  there  yourself,  mother/'said 
Esther,  and  Kate  added :  "  It's  been  a  regular  picnic. 
I  never  enjoyed  a  day  more  in  my  life." 

In  different  ways  each  of  the  girls  resembled  her 
strongly.  Esther  had  the  broad,  low  forehead  and 
serious  eyes,  but  Kate  had  the  resolute  mouth  with 
a  touch  of  playfulness  lurking  at  the  corners.  A 
girl,  much  younger  than  either,  rolled  sleepily  out 
of  the  hammock  as  they  stepped  on  the  veranda. 

"  Oh,  I'm  glad  you've  come,"  she  said,  rubbing 
her  eyes.  "This  has  been  the  longest,  stupidest  day 
I  ever  saw.  Papa's  been  away,  and  mamma's  been 
busy  with  the  company,  and  Aunt  Milly's  been  so 
cross  because  she  couldn't  go  out  to  the  farm,  that 
she's  been  ready  to  snap  my  head  off  every  time  I 
looked  in  at  the  kitchen.  Even  the  cat  went  off 
visiting." 


42  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

"  What  a  dull  day  you've  had  of  it,  Virgie !  "  said 
Esther,  kissing  the  child's  flushed  cheek.  "  But 
what  ailed  Aunt  Milly  ?  She  knows  she  couldn't  be 
spared  to  go  out  there  to-day." 

"Of  course  she  knows  it,"  said  Mrs.  Northmore, 
"  and  she  would  have  felt  even  worse  to  be  spared 
from  here,  but  I  suspect  the  real  grievance  was  the 
cheerfulness  with  which  you  girls  left  her  behind. 
She  wanted  to  feel  that  she  was  needed  in  both 
places.  Poor  old  Milly,  she  can't  reconcile  herself 
to  the  idea  that  we  can  really  get  along  without  her 
anywhere." 

"  Why  didn't  we  think  of  that  ? "  cried  Kate.  "  If 
we'd  asked  her  advice  about  a  lot  of  things,  and  shaken 
our  heads  over  the  difficulties  we  should  get  into,  with 
her  out  of  our  reach,  she'd  have  been  happy  all  day. 
Esther,  you  and  I  are  a  pair  of  stupids,  but  I'll  make 
it  up  to  her  yet." 

"  Oh,  she's  forgiven  you  already,"  said  Mrs.  North- 
more  ;  "  and  if  she  punishes  you  at  all,  it'll  be  by  way 
of  showing  you  some  special  favors,  you  may  be  sure 
of  that." 

"  There  she  comes  now,"  said  Kate,  as  footsteps 
were  heard  approaching  on  the  tiled  floor  of  the  hall ; 
and  she  added,  listening  to  the  thud  of  the  heavy  feet, 
whose  stout  slippers  dropping  at  the  heels  doubled 


TALKING    IT   OVER.  43 

the  fall  with  a  solemn  tap,  "walking  as  if  she 
went  on  two  wooden  legs  and  a  pair  of  crutches." 

The  comparison  was  not  bad,  and  the  laugh  that 
followed  it  had  hardly  ended  when  the  old  servant 
showed  a  lugubrious  face  at  the  door. 

"  Howdy,  Aunt  Milly  ? "  cried  Kate  before  the  other 
had  a  chance  to  speak.  "  Here  we  are,  you  see,  home 
again.  I  was  just  coming  out  to  the  kitchen  to  tell 
you  how  we  got  along,  and  see  if  you  could  give  us 
a  bite  to  eat.  I  suppose  you  think  we  had  our  suppers 
at  the  farm,  and  so  we  did  ;  but  it  wasn't  like  one  of 
your  suppers,  and  I  guess  you  know  how  much  appe- 
tite you  have  when  you're  all  mixed  up  with  the  cook- 
ing. Don't  bother  to  bring  anything  in  here,  but  just 
let  us  sit  out  in  the  kitchen  with  you." 

At  this  artful  proposal  Milly's  face  shortened  unmis- 
takably. "  Don't  know's  I've  got  anything  you'd  keer 
about,"  she  began  with  a  show  of  reluctance,  "but  I'll 
knock  round  and  see  what  I  can  find  for  you." 

"Oh,  you'll  find  something  —  you  always  do,"  said 
Kate.  "  By  the  way,  I  thought  I  smelled  something 
good  when  I  was  coming  up  to  the  house." 

"  It  was  the  catalpa  blossoms,  and  you  know  it,"  said 
Esther,  laughing,  and  looking  at  her  sister  with  a  re- 
proving glance,  when  the  door  had  closed  behind  Milly. 

"  Well,  but  she  did  make  a  spice  cake,  and  it  smells 


44  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

awfully  good,"  said  Virgie.  "  It's  warm  now,  and  she 
wouldn't  break  a  crumb  of  it  for  me." 

"  There  !  "  said  Kate,  triumphantly.  "  You  see  how 
people  are  helped  out,  when  they  prevaricate  for  high 
moral  ends.  Come  on  to  the  kitchen.  I'll  never  pre- 
tend to  be  smart  again  if  I  can't  put  Aunt  Milly  in 
good  spirits  before  we've  been  there  long." 

It  would  have  been  an  incomplete  picture  indeed  of 
the  Northmore  household  which  did  not  include  old 
Aunt  Milly.  An  important  figure  she  was  and  had 
been  ever  since  the  girls  could  remember.  But  in 
truth  her  connection  with  the  family  was  of  much  older 
date  than  that.  She  had  been  born  and  reared  a  slave 
on  the  Kentucky  plantation  which  had  been  the  home 
of  Dr.  Northmore's  boyhood.  He  had  left  it  earlier 
than  she,  having  before  the  war  gone  out  from  the 
large  circle  of  brothers  to  establish  himself  in  his  pro- 
fession in  a  neighboring  state.  But  when,  in  the 
changed  times,  the  servants  had  scattered  from  the  old 
place,  Milly  had  made  her  way  to  the  home  of  her 
favorite,  and  urged  with  many  entreaties  that  she  might 
fill  a  post  of  service  there. 

Dr.  Northmore  could  not  resist  the  appeal,  nor  his 
young  wife  his  wish  in  the  matter,  and  though  the  ser- 
vice had  been  a  trying  one  at  first  to  the  energetic 
Northern  girl,  yet,  as  time  went  on,  and  children,  one 


TALKING    IT    OVER.  4$ 

after  another,  were  added  to  the  household,  she  learned 
to  set  truer  value  on  the  faithful,  affectionate  servant, 
whose  devotion  nothing  could  tire;  and  now,  when 
Milly  was  old  and  infirm,  her  place  was  as  secure  as 
it  had  been  in  her  palmiest  days.  She  herself  had  full 
confidence  in  her  ability  to  fill  it  still,  and  her  one  fear 
for  the  future  was  that  she  might  be  forced  to  share 
it  with  one  of  those  "  transients "  who  rendered  their 
service  by  the  week,  —  a  class  for  which  her  high-bred 
contempt  knew  no  bounds. 

Kate  had  not  misjudged  the  effect  of  her  stratagem 
on  the  simple  old  soul.  It  was  a  long  time  since  her 
young  ladies  had  done  her  the  honor  of  eating  at  her 
own  pine  table,  and  Milly  forgot  the  grief  of  the  day 
in  the  zest  of  her  hospitality,  and  accepted  their  praises 
for  the  feast  she  furnished,  with  a  delight  quite  differ- 
ent from  the  forgiving  dignity  with  which  she  had 
meant  to  pierce  the  hearts  of  her  darlings. 

"Well,  yes,  I  did  stir  up  a  little  cake  for  you,"  she 
admitted,  when  Kate,  after  due  admiration  of  the  fresh 
and  fragrant  loaf,  accused  her  of  misrepresenting  the 
extent  of  her  supplies.  "  Laws,  I  knew  you'd  be 
wantin'  a  bite  of  somethin'  afore  you  went  to  bed.  It 
allers  makes  my  stomach  feel  powerful  empty  to  ride 
in  one  o'  them  wagons,  jouncin'  round  in  them  straight- 
backed  cheers." 


46  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

"And  you  must  have  named  it  for  me,  Aunt  Milly," 
said  Kate,  with  her  eyes  on  the  cake. 

This  was  an  allusion  to  one  of  Milly's  culinary 
secrets,  and  she  received  it  with  a  smile  which  fairly 
transfigured  the  dusky  old  face.  She  had  her  own 
theories  of  cake-making,  theories  which  she  maintained 
with  the  unanswerable  logic  of  her  own  surpassing 
skill. 

"You  see,  Miss  Kate,"  she  had  said  years  before, 
when  the  girl  had  come  to  the  kitchen  with  a  request 
to  be  instructed  in  the  mysteries  of  the  art,  "there's 
somethin'  curus  about  makin'  cake.  It  ain't  all  in 
havin'  a  good  receipt,  though  it  Stan's  to  reason  if  you 
don't  take  the  right  things  there's  no  use  puttin'  'em 
together.  An'  it  ain't  all  in  the  way  you  put  'em  to- 
gether neither,  though  I  'low  that  makes  a  heap  o'  dif- 
ference. Folks  has  their  'pinions,  an'  there's  some  that 
says  you  must  take  your  hand  to  the  mixin',  an'  some 
that  says  you  must  use  a  wooden  spoon,  an'  I  knew 
one  cook  that  would  have  it  you  must  stir  the  batter  all 
one  way,  or  'twould  be  plumb  ruined.  But  I  can't  say 
as  \jest  hold  with  any  o'  them  idees,  nor  yet  with  the 
notions  folks  has  about  the  bakin',  though  it's  true  as 
you  live,  a  body's  got  to  be  mighty  keerful  on  that  p'int. 
Laws,  I've  known  folks  dassn't  let  a  cat  run  across  the 
kitchen  floor  while  the  cake's  in  the  oven. 


TALKING    IT    OVER.  47 

"  I  tell  you,  Miss  Kate,"  Milly  had  proceeded,  grow- 
ing more  impressive,  as  the  greatness  of  her  subject 
loomed  before  her,  "there's  a  heap  o'  things  to  be 
looked  to  in  the  makin'  o'  cake,  but  there's  somethin' 
besides  all  them  p'ints  I've  mentioned.  It  takes  the 
right  person  to  make  it !  There's  some  that's  been 
'lected  to  make  cake  an'  some  that  hasn't.  There 
ain't  no  other  doctrine  to  account  for  the  luck  folks 
has.  I'll  show  you  my  way,  but  I  can't  tell  beforehand 
how  it'll  work  with  you.  There's  one  thing,  though, 
I'll  jest  say  private  between  you'n  me,"  she  added, 
lowering  her  voice  to  a  mysterious  whisper,  "an'  I 
ain't  one  to  take  up  with  no  superstitious  notions 
neither ;  when  you  want  to  make  an  extra  fine  cake, 
you  name  it  for  somebody  that  loves  you  jest  as 
you're  shettin'  the  oven  door,  an'  if  you've  made  that 
cake  all  right,  an'  if  you  ain't  deceived  in  that  per- 
son, your  cake'll  come  out  splendid." 

"But  if  you  are  deceived?"  Kate  had  suggested 
solemnly. 

"Then,"  said  Milly,  lifting  her  finger,  and  shaking 
it  with  slow  emphasis,  "  as  sure's  you're  born  that 
cake'll  fall  in  the  pan  an'  be  sad.  There  can't  noth- 
in'  on  earth  prevent  it." 

"  But  t'nat  is  such  an  uncertain  way,"  Kate  had 
objected.  "  You  can't  always  tell  whether  or  not  a 


48  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

person  loves  you.  Why  don't  you  name  it  for  some- 
body that  you  love  yourself?  Then  you  could  be 
sure." 

But  Milly  had  shaken  her  head  wisely.  It  was 
the  nature  of  cake,  as  it  was  of  love,  to  be  uncertain, 
and  she  refused  to  reconstruct  her  charm. 

All  this  had  happened  years  before,  but  when,  by 
some  lucky  turn  of  memory,  Kate  recalled  it  now, 
and  suggested  that  this  perfect  specimen  of  cake  had 
been  baked  under  the  inspiration  of  her  own  love  for 
Milly,  the  last  shadow  of  the  old  woman's  melan- 
choly vanished.  "Well,  Honey,"  she  said  radiantly, 
"  I  reckon  I  shouldn't  have  missed  it  fur  if  I  had." 

She  was  prepared  now  to  enjoy  to  the  full  the  ac- 
count which  the  girls  gave  of  the  experiences  at  the 
farm,  including  everything  of  importance,  from  Kate's 
exaltation  on  the  machine  to  Morton  Elwell's  capture 
of  the  doughnuts.  Over  the  latter  incident  her  eyes 
fairly  rolled  with  delight,  and  she  interrupted  the 
narrator  to  exclaim,  "  That  chile's  boun'  to  make  a 
powerful  smart  man.  Puts  me  in  mind  of  Mars 
Clay,  your  uncle,  you  know,  what  got  to  be  kunnel 
in  the  army.  That  chile  did  have  the  most  'mazin' 
faculty  for  comin'  roun'  when  a  body  was  cookin',  an* 
the  beatin'est  way  findin'  out  where  things  was 
kep'  an'  helpin'  hisself  that  ever  I  did  see.  I  never 


TALKING    IT    OVER.  49 

will  forgit  how  he  fooled  your  grandma  one  year 
'bout  the  jelly.  Ole  Miss  she  allus  put  her  jelly  in 
glasses  with  lids  to  'em.  She  had  a  closet  full  that 
year,  an'  every  glass  of  it  would  turn  out  slick  an' 
solid.  Mars  Clay,  he  foun'  he  could  turn  the  jelly 
out  on  the  lid,  an'  cut  a  slice  off'm  the  bottom,  an' 
jist  slide  the  jelly  back  again.  I  seed  him  do  it  one 
day,  but  I  never  let  on,  and  your  grandma  she  never 
foun'  out,  but  she  'lowed  'twas  mighty  strange  how 
her  jelly  did  shwink  that  year." 

She  shook  with  glee  at  that  remembrance,  and 
Kate  forgave  Morton  El  well  over  again  for  outwitting 
her,  since  the  act  had  been  the  means  of  giving  her 
one  more  story  of  the  old  days.  But  Milly's  delight 
reached  its  climax  when  Kate  told  of  the  favor  with 
which  the  various  dishes  had  been  received  at  dinner, 
and  how  Farmer  Giles,  after  helping  himself  to  the 
third  piece  of  corn-bread,  had  declared  it  the  best  he 
ever  tasted,  to  which  she  had  replied  that  it  ought  to 
be  ;  it  was  made  by  Aunt  Milly's  own  receipt 

"  Bless  your  heart,  chile,"  cried  the  old  woman ;  "  you 
didn't  tell  him  that  now,  did  you  ?  You  mustn't  make 
the  old  darky  too  proud  !  " 

She  did  not  enter  with  quite  as  much  enthusiasm  into 
Kate's  description  of  the  threshing  machine,  and  re- 
verted with  a  sigh  to  the  days  when  the  thresher  was 


5O  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

content  with  his  flail,  an  instrument  which  she  extolled 
as  being  "  a  heap  safer  than  that  great  snorting  ma- 
chine "  (she  persisted  in  confounding  its  functions  with 
those  of  the  engine);  and  she  refused  to  share  in  Kate's 
wonder  that  people  didn't  starve  in  those  days  waiting 
for  the  grain  to  be  threshed. 

The  two  were  still  discussing  harvests  past  and  pres- 
ent when  Esther,  feeling  that  she  had  done  her  full 
duty  there,  left  the  kitchen.  She  had  never  held  quite 
the  place  in  Milly's  affections  which  Kate  enjoyed,  nor 
had  she  of  late  years  listened  with  her  sister's  content- 
ment to  the  old  woman's  thrice-told  tales.  She  left 
them  now  and  went  to  seek  her  mother. 

Mrs.  Northmore  was  seated  on  the  cool  veranda 
with  her  hands  in  her  lap,  and  that  look  of  tired  content 
which  tells  of  a  busy  but  successful  day.  A  generous 
hospitality  had  left  her  a  little  worn.  Esther  sat  down 
on  the  step  at  her  feet  and  leaned  her  arms  across  her 
lap  in  a  childish  fashion  she  had  never  outgrown. 

"  I  wish  I  didn't  get  so  tired  of  people  whom  I  really 
like,"  she  said.  "It  would  break  Aunt  Milly's  heart  if 
she  knew  how  she  bores  me.  It  seems  to  me  some- 
times I  get  tired  of  everybody  —  everybody  but  you, 
mother  dear." 

Mrs.  Northmore  looked  into  her  daughter's  eyes  with 
a  smile. 


TALKING    IT    OVER.  5 1 

"  I  don't  think  I  should  feel  hurt,  my  dear,  if  you 
wanted  to  get  away  from  me,  too,  sometimes.  Nobody 
quite  suits  all  our  moods.  I  wouldn't  reproach  myself 
on  that  score,  if  I  were  you." 

"  But  it  seems  so  disloyal,  when  it's  anybody — any- 
body that  you  really  care  a  great  deal  about,"  said 
Esther.  Her  mother's  smile  kept  its  tinge  of  amuse- 
ment, and  the  girl's  face  grew  more  serious. 

"  I  wonder  sometimes  if  I'm  made  like  other  girls," 
she  said.  "  It  isn't  just  getting  tired  of  people.  It's 
getting  tired  of  things  in  general,  and  longing  for  some- 
thing larger  than  anything  that  comes  into  my  life.  I 
don't  know  as  I  can  make  you  understand  quite  what 
I  mean,"  she  went  on,  a  strained  note  creeping  into  her 
voice,  "  but  somehow  it  came  over  me  to-day  more 
strongly  than  it  ever  did  before  that  I  could  never  be 
satisfied  just  to  live  out  my  life  in  the  common  hum- 
drum way.  Perhaps  it  was  the  talk  of  those  women. 
I  suppose  they're  just  as  good  and  useful  as  the  aver- 
age, but  it  seemed  as  if  they  thought  there  was  nothing 
in  the  world  for  women  to  do  but  to  be  married,  and 
keep  house,  and  take  care  of  children.  Even  Mrs. 
Elwell,  nice  as  she  is,  appeared  to  think  so,  and  it  all 
seemed  to  me  so  poor  and  small.  I  almost  despised 
them,  mother." 

The   smile    had   gone  now   from   Mrs.   Northmore's 


52  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

eyes.  "  Oh,  my  dear ! "  she  said ;  and  then  she  was 
silent.  Of  what  use  would  it  be  to  tell  this  child,  with 
the  experiences  of  life  all  untried,  that  the  common  lot, 
which  she  despised,  had  in  its  round  the  truest  joys  and 
deepest  satisfactions  ?  Years  and  love  and  happy  work 
must  bring  the  knowledge  of  that.  She  stroked  the 
brown  head  for  a  moment  without  speaking.  It  was 
Esther  who  found  words  first. 

"  You  never  felt  like  those  women,  did  you,  mother  ? 
You  don't  seem  a  bit  like  them.  You  are  always  read- 
ing and  thinking,  and  you  know  about  a  thousand  things 
they've  never  thought  of." 

The  smile  came  back  to  Mrs.  Northmore's  eyes,  but 
there  was  a  touch  of  sadness  in  it.  "  My  dear  girl,"  she 
said,  "  I'm  not  half  as  wise  as  you  think  I  am  ;  but  if  I 
have  any  wisdom  I'm  sure  I've  found  most  of  it,  and  my 
happiness  too,  in  those  same  common  things.  There 
isn't  such  a  difference  between  me  and  those  friends  of 
ours  as  you  imagine." 

The  girl  looked  unconvinced.  Presently  she  said, 
with  a  sigh,  "  If  one  could  only  be  something  or  do 
something !  When  I  think  of  the  people  who  have 
been  great  —  the  heroes,  the  poets,  the  artists,  people 
who  have  accomplished  something  that  lasted  —  they 
seem  to  me  the  only  ones  who  have  been  really  happy. 
Just  to  be  one  of  the  mass,  and  live,  and  die,  and  be 
forgotten,  seems  so  pitiful." 


TALKING    IT   OVER.  53 

There  had  never  been  any  closed  doors  between 
Mrs.  Northmore's  heart  and  her  daughters.  She  had 
been  the  friend  and  confidante  of  each,  and  she 
knew  this  mood  of  Esther's;  but  the  day  had  deep- 
ened its  color  to  an  unusual  sombreness.  The  girl 
had  never  before  disclosed  a  feeling  quite  like  this, 
and  for  once  the  mother  was  at  a  loss  how  to  help 
her.  To  say  that  all  could  not  be  great  was  trite, 
and  had  no  comfort  in  it. 

"  I  think  we  often  make  a  mistake  in  our  envying 
of  the  great,"  she  said  gently.  "The  happiness  to 
them  was  not  in  being  known  and  remembere4  be- 
yond others ;  few  of  them  knew  in  their  lifetime  that 
this  would  be  true  of  them,  or  even  the  value  of 
their  work  to  the  world.  The  real  happiness  lay  in 
doing  with  success  the  thing  they  cared  to  do.  To 
know  our  work  and  do  it,  Esther,  not  the  sort  of 
work  nor  the  reward,  but  the  finding  and  doing  — 
that  is  the  true  joy  of  the  greatest,  and  it  is  open  to 
us  all." 

She  had  spoken  with  simple  seriousness,  as  she 
always  did  when  others  brought  her  their  troubles, 
however  fanciful.  Perhaps  the  girl  did  not  grasp  the 
thought,  or,  grasping,  find  the  comfort  in  it. 

"  But  it  seems  to  me  that  some  of  us  have  no  spe- 
cial work  to  do,  nor  any  special  faculty  for  doing 


54  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

it,"  she  said.  "  Here  am  I,  for  instance.  What  am  I 
good  for?  I  seem  to  myself  to  be  just  one  of  those 
creatures  who  are  made  for  nothing  but  to  fill  up  the 
spaces  between  the  people  who  amount  to  something." 

Mrs.  Northmore  pressed  her  hand  for  a  moment 
lightly  on  the  dark  appealing  eyes  of  the  girl.  "If 
we  are  in  earnest,"  she  said  gently,  "and  if  it  is  use- 
fulness, not  praise  that  we  are  caring  about,  we  shall 
find  our  work;  and  be  sure  it  will  seem  special  to 
us  if  we  love  it  as  we  ought." 

There  were  a  few  minutes  of  silence ;  then  the 
girl  said  more  quietly,  but  with  a  note  of  despond- 
ence in  her  voice  :  "  If  I  had  gone  to  school  longer 
and  tried  to  fit  myself  for  something,  perhaps  I  might 
have  found  out  what  I  was  good  for.  I  didn't  care 
much  when  I  left  Lance  Hall,  and  I  never  studied 
as  hard  as  I  might  while  I  was  there;  but  I've 
thought  more  about  it  since  then." 

A  look  of  pain  came  into  Mrs.  Northmore's  face. 
It  was  a  regret  the  girl  had  never  expressed  before, 
but  one  which  had  been  often  in  her  own  thoughts. 
Yet  the  year  in  boarding-school,  which  had  followed 
Esther's  graduation  from  the  high  school,  had  been 
all  that  Dr.  Northmore  could  afford  to  give  his 
daughter.  She  was  considered  in  the  region  quite 
an  accomplished  girl,  but  her  mother,  at  least,  real- 


TALKING   IT    OVER.  55 

ized  what  a  broader  and  more  serious  education  might 
have  done  for  her.  She  realized  it  at  this  moment 
with  unusual  force. 

"  I  wish  you  might  have  had  the  best  the  schools 
can  give,  and  some  other  things  you  have  missed, 
Esther,"  she  said.  And  then  she  added,  "  If  we 
were  only  a  little  richer ! " 

There  was  a  tone  in  Mrs.  Northmore's  voice  which 
one  heard  but  seldom,  and  the  girl  noted  it  with  a 
sudden  compunction.  "  I  haven't  missed  anything 
that  I  deserved  to  have,"  she  said  quickly,  "and  I've 
had  more  than  most  girls.  I  know  that.  It's  you 
who  go  without  things,  mother.  You're  always  plan- 
ning and  saving,  and  pretending  you  don't  want  to 
have  anything  or  go  anywhere."  And  then  the  im- 
patience came  into  her  tone  again,  though  she  was 
not  thinking  of  herself,  as  she  added,  "  Sometimes  I 
can't  see  how  it  is  that  we  have  so  little  money  to 
spend,  when  father  has  such  a  good  practice." 

Mrs.  Northmore  sighed.  "  Your  father  has  never 
looked  very  sharply  after  his  own  interests  in  money 
matters.  He  has  been  too  busy  with  other  things, 
and  too  generous,  for  that,"  she  said.  And  then  she 
added,  almost  gayly :  "  But  I  have  never  lacked  for 
anything ;  and  it  is  so  much  easier  to  bear  the  sort  of 
mistakes  your  father  makes  than  it  would  be  to  bear 


56  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

some  others !  The  '  handle  '  —  you  remember  what 
Epictetus  says  about  the  'two  handles '-  —  why,  the 
handle  to  bear  our  sort  of  trouble  with  stands  out  all 
round,  and  is  so  big  one  can't  help  laying  hold  of  it." 

Perhaps  it  was  the  light-heartedness  with  which 
she  spoke,  more  than  the  slight  reproof  which  the 
words  contained,  that  made  Esther's  head  drop  in  her 
mother's  lap.  "  I  wish  I  were  half  as  good  as  you 
are,  mother,"  she  whispered. 

The  voices  of  Kate  and  Virgie  from  the  direction 
of  the  kitchen  made  her  spring  to  her  feet  a  minute 
later.  "  I  don't  want  to  be  here  when  they  come," 
she  said,  dashing  her  handkerchief  across  her  eyes. 
"  I'm  tired  and  disagreeable.  Good  night." 

She  was  off  before  the  others  had  reached  the  porch, 
and  a  half  hour  later,  when  Kate  followed  her  to  her 
room,  she  was  in  bed,  more  than  willing  that  her  sister 
should  think  her  closed  eyelids  drowsy  with  sleep,  an 
impression  which  did  not,  however,  prevent  the  other 
from  indulging  in  some  lively  monologue  as  she 
undressed.  Her  father  had  come  home,  she  said,  and 
was  delighted  with  the  report  of  the  day,  but  there  was 
a  lot  left  to  tell  him  in  the  morning.  "  Besides,"  she 
added,  "  I  could  see  there  was  something  on  mother's 
mind  that  she  wanted  to  talk  over  with  him  alone,  so  I 
came  away." 


TALKING    IT   OVER.  57 

She  was  silent  for  fully  two  minutes,  then  burst  out, 
"  I  say,  wasn't  it  great,  what  Mort  Elwell  said  about 
Stella  Saxon's  picture  ? "  She  chuckled  at  the  remem- 
brance, then  added :  "  By  the  way,  did  it  occur  to  you 
that  he  wasn't  particularly  enthusiastic  over  the  idea 
of  our  going  to  grandfather's  ?  My,  but  I  wish  we 
could  go." 

"  I  don't  know  what  difference  our  plans  make  to 
him,"  said  Esther,  in  a  tone  which  indicated  that  her 
sleepiness  had  not  reached  an  acute  stage. 

"  Oh,  they  make  plenty  of  difference  to  him ;  at  least 
yours  do,"  said  Kate,  sagely. 

"Well,  he  might  spare  himself  the  trouble,"  said 
Esther.  "  I  must  say  I  think  Morton  Elwell  takes  too 
much  for  granted,  lately." 

Kate  stopped  braiding  her  hair  and  stared  at  her 
sister.  "  I  don't  know  what  he  takes  for  granted, 
except  that  old  friends  don't  change,"  she  said.  She 
continued  to  stare  for  a  minute,  then  remarked  slowly : 
"  I  know  what  ails  you,  Esther.  You  want  to  have  a 
.  lot  of  romance  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  For  my  part 
I  never  could  see  that  romance  amounted  to  anything 
but  getting  all  mixed  up  and  having  a  lot  of  trouble." 
And  having  delivered  herself  of  this  she  apparently 
resigned  herself  to  her  own  reflections. 

On  the  porch,  still  sitting  in  the  evening  darkness, 


58  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

Mrs.  Northmore  was  saying  to  her  husband  at  that 
moment :  "  Philip,  what  do  you  say  to  letting  the  girls 
go  to  New  England  ?  We've  talked  about  it  a  good 
deal;  why  not  settle  on  it?  Now  that  the  wheat  has 
turned  out  so  well,  couldn't  we  afford  it  ? " 

"  Why,  I  think  'twould  be  an  excellent  plan,  Lucia," 
said  the  doctor,  cordially.  "  I've  thought  so  all  along, 
but  I  was  under  the  impression  that  you  wanted  the 
wheat  money  to  go  another  way." 

She  gave  a  little  sigh.  "Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  did  want 
to  reduce  that  mortgage,  but  some  things  can  wait 
better  than  others.  It  would  do  the  girls  good  to  go, 
and  I  believe  Esther  really  needs  a  change." 

"  You  think  the  child  is  not  well  ? "  queried  the 
doctor,  with  a  note  of  surprise  in  his  voice. 

"  Oh,  not  ill,"  said  Mrs.  Northmore,  quickly,  "  but "  — 
she  hesitated  a  moment,  "she  is  rather  restless  and 
inclined  to  be  a  little  morbid  and  moody.  It  might 
be  worth  a  good  deal  to  her  to  have  a  change  of  scene, 
and  get  some  new  ideas." 

"  By  all  means  pack  her  off,"  said  the  doctor.  "  It's  a 
prescription  I  always  like  to  give  my  patients ;  and  if 
that  is  yours  for  her  I'll  fill  it  with  all  confidence."  He 
rose  and  stretched  his  long  arms  with  a  tired  gesture. 
"  I  believe  it's  bedtime  for  me,"  he  said,  "  and  I  rather 
think  it  ought  to  be  for  you  too." 


CHAPTER  III. 

BETWEEN   TIMES. 

IT  was  at  breakfast  the  next  morning  that  the  great 
decision  was  announced. 

"  Well,  young  ladies,"  said  the  doctor,  looking  from 
one  to  the  other  of  his  older  daughters,  "what  do 
you  think  your  mother  and  I  have  decided  to  do  with 
you  ? "  He  paused  for  just  an  instant,  then  gave  the 
answer  himself  without  waiting  for  theirs.  "  Nothing 
short  of  sending  you  East  for  the  rest  of  the  summer. 
We've  held  a  council,  and  decided  that  nothing  else 
will  do  in  your  case." 

They  caught  their  breath,  gasping  for  a  moment  at 
the  suddenness  of  it,  then  Kate  brought  her  hands 
together  with  a  clap.  "  Glorious  !  "  she  cried  ;  "  that's 
the  best  news  I  ever  heard.  But,  do  you  know,  I 
felt  in  my  bones  last  night  that  it  was  coming." 

The  doctor  laughed.  The  idea  of  this  plump  young 
creature  deriving  any  premonitions  from  her  bones 
amused  him.  "  And  what  did  yours  indicate  ?  "  he 
asked,  turning  to  Esther. 

59 


6O  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

"  Nothing  as  delightful  as  that,"  she  said.  Her 
face  was  not  as  bright  as  Kate's.  She  wondered,  with 
a  sudden  misgiving,  whether  her  discontented  mood 
of  the  evening  before  had  any  share  in  bringing  the 
decision,  and  the  thought  was  in  the  glance  which  she 
sent  at  that  moment  toward  her  mother. 

The  latter  met  it  with  a  smiling  clearness.  "  Your 
father  has  been  in  favor  of  it  for  some  time,"  she 
said,  "  and  now  that  the  wheat  has  turned  out  so  well 
there  is  really  nothing  in  the  way." 

The  shadow  flitted  from  Esther's  eyes.  "  Oh,  it 
will  be  beautiful  to  go,  perfectly  beautiful !  I  only 
wish  Virgie  could  go,  too,"  she  said,  with  a  glance  at 
the  little  sister,  whose  face  had  grown  very  sober. 

"  Now  you  needn't  worry  a  bit  about  Virgie,"  said 
the  doctor,  putting  his  arm  around  the  child,  who  sat 
beside  him.  "  Your  mother  and  I  couldn't  stand  it 
without  her,  and  we're  going  to  see  that  she  has  a 
good  time.  Just  you  wait,  Virgie,"  he  added,  lower- 
ing his  voice  confidentially,  "  I  have  a  plan  for  this 
fall,  and  you're  going  to  be  in  it.  There'll  be  a  fine 
slice  of  cake  left  for  us  three  when  the  others  have 
eaten  theirs  all  up." 

He  was  exceedingly  fond  of  his  children.  With 
their  training,  either  physical  or  mental,  he  had  never 
charged  himself,  —  perhaps  because  they  were  girls,  — 


BETWEEN    TIMES.  6 1 

but  to  gratify  their  wants,  and  to  shield  them  as  far 
as  possible  from  the  hardships  of  life,  was  a  side  of 
parental  privilege  to  which  he  was  keenly  responsive. 

"  But  when  are  we  going  ? "  Kate  was  already 
demanding. 

"Just  as  soon  as  your  mother  can  get  you  ready," 
said  the  doctor;  "and  I  shouldn't  think  that  need  to 
take  very  long.  I  fancy  she  has  your  wardrobe 
planned  already.  Something  kept  her  awake  last 
night,  and  when  I  asked  her,  sometime  in  the  small 
hours,  what  it  was,  she  said  she  was  contriving  a  new 
way  to  make  over  one  of  your  old  dresses.  For  your 
mother,"  he  added,  smiling  at  that  lady,  "is  like  the 
wife  of  John  Gilpin.  Though  bent  on  pleasure  —  yours, 
of  course  —  she  has  'a  frugal  mind.'  ' 

"  Think  of  being  likened  to  that  immortal  woman  !  " 
cried  Mrs.  Northmore.  "  I  only  hope  my  plans  will 
work  better  than  hers  did." 

"  Oh,  your  plans  always  work,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  But  don't  tax  your  wits  too  far  reconstructing  old 
clothes.  Get  some  new  ones ;  get  'em  pretty  and 
stylish.  I  want  the  girls  to  be  fixed  up  nice  if  they're 
going  to  visit  those  Eastern  relatives." 

"Hear!  hear!"  cried  Kate.  "Papa,  your  ideas 
and  mine  fit  beautifully." 

He  was   in   the   best   of   spirits.     The   good  wheat 


62  WHEAT   AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

crop  had  already  brought  the  payment  of  some  long- 
standing medical  bills,  and  Dr.  Northmore  could  al- 
ways adjust  himself  to  a  time  of  abundance  more 
gracefully  than  to  the  day  of  small  things. 

"We  shall  treat  you  handsomely  in  the  matter  of 
our  expenses,  you  may  depend  on  that,"  said  his  wife. 
She  had  no  intention  of  relaxing  her  carefulness  in 
the  use  of  money ;  but  she  never  wounded  her  hus- 
band's pride,  and  she  always  indulged  him  in  the 
amused  smile  with  which,  in  times  of  comparative 
ease,  he  seemed  to  regard  feminine  economies. 

There  were  plenty  of  them  in  the  days  that  im- 
mediately followed,  but  the  girls  had  most  of  the 
things  they  wanted,  and  their  father  was  more  than 
satisfied  with  the  pretty  becoming  dresses  in  which 
they  bloomed  out,  one  after  another,  for  his  benefit. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  Mrs.  Northmore  was  quite  as 
desirous  as  he  that  her  girls  should  be  well  provided 
for  this  summer  outing.  She  was  a  bit  of  a  philoso- 
pher, but  she  never  affected  the  slightest  indifference 
to  the  matter  of  dress.  She  had  excellent  taste  her- 
self, and  had  given  it  to  her  children. 

Things  moved  so  swiftly  that  in  little  more  than 
a  week  they  were  ready.  There  were  good-by  calls 
to  be  made,  and  a  host  of  others  to  be  received  from 
friends  who  came  to  offer  their  congratulations  and 


BETWEEN    TIMES.  63 

express  effusive  hopes  for  their  pleasure  during  the 
summer,  for  the  news  of  their  plan  had  spread 
rapidly.  But  there  was  one  friend  to  whom  word 
came  late,  and  who,  but  for  accident,  might  have 
missed  it  altogether. 

This  was  Morton  Elwell.  The  girls  were  walking 
home  from  the  village  late  one  afternoon,  when  Kate, 
glancing  back,  saw  the  young  man  with  the  New 
Light  preacher.  The  two  had  been  harvesting  to- 
gether at  the  other  end  of  the  county,  and  since 
that  day  at  the  farm  neither  of  them  had  been  in 
town. 

"There's  Mort  Elwell!"  she  exclaimed;  and  then 
she  faced  about,  drawing  her  sister  with  her,  and 
waited  frankly  for  him  to  come  up. 

The  two  men  quickened  their  steps  instantly. 
"  Upon  my  word,  I  didn't  know  you  till  you  turned," 
said  Morton.  "  My,  how  fine  you  look  !  " 

Kate  smiled,  and  Esther  flushed.  Perhaps  it  was 
one  of  the  liberties  she  did  not  quite  like  his  taking, 
that  he  should  be  so  plainly  observant  of  their  new 
dresses. 

"  Well,  it's  a  wonder  that  anybody  knows  you, 
face  to  face,  Mort,"  said  Kate.  "  I  declare  you're 
as  brown  as  a  mulatto." 

"  Am  I  ? "  said   the  young  man  cheerfully.     "  Well, 


64  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

I'm  at  the  engine  now,  and  what  with  smoke  and 
sunburn  it  paints  a  fellow  up  in  good  style." 

"  I  suppose  you  know  we're  going  away  next 
Wednesday,"  said  Kate.  She  had  fallen  behind  with 
him,  leaving  Esther  to  walk  with  the  preacher. 

"Why,  no,  I  didn't  know  it,"  said  Morton,  fairly 
stopping  in  his  walk.  "  Is  that  so  ? " 

" '  Certain  true,  black  and  blue,'  as  we  used  to 
say  when  we  were  children,"  replied  Kate.  "We're 
going  to  Grandfather  Saxon's.  It  was  all  settled 
that  night  after  we  got  home  from  the  threshing." 
She  paused  a  moment ;  then,  as  he  had  not  spoken, 
added,  with  a  little  pout :  "  I  suppose  you  couldn't 
strain  a  point  to  say  you're  glad.  Everybody  else 
seems  to  say  it  easily  enough." 

"Why,  of  course  I'm  glad,"  said  Morton,  hastily, 
"  and  I  hope  you'll  have  a  tremendously  good  time ; 
but  it  sort  of  takes  a  body's  breath  away,  it's  so 
sudden.  When  are  you  coming  back  ? " 

"We're  not  thinking  of  that  part  yet,"  said  Kate; 
"but  not  before  September." 

His  face  lengthened.  "Why,  I  shan't  see  any- 
thing of  you  girls  all  vacation,"  he  said.  "I  did 
think  when  the  harvesting  was  over  I  should  get 
an  occasional  glimpse  of  you.  I  wish  threshing 
hadn't  begun  so  early  this  year." 


BETWEEN    TIMES.  6$ 

"What's  that?"  said  the  preacher,  turning  his 
head.  "Wanting  seed  time  and  harvest  put  off  for 
your  special  benefit !  That  won't  do,  Mort." 

"  Oh,  not  that  exactly,"  said  the  young  man.  "  But 
it  is  sort  of  hard  on  a  fellow  not  to  get  any  chance 
of  seeing  his  friends  all  summer,  when  that's  the 
only  time  in  the  year  he's  at  home." 

"  There'll  be  plenty  of  your  friends  left,"  said 
Esther.  She  had  half  turned  her  head,  and  was 
looking  wonderfully  pretty  in  her  new  leghorn  hat 
with  the  corn-flowers  and  poppies. 

"  Oh  !  "  he  said,  reproachfully ;  but  he  had  no  chance 
to  say  anything  more  just  then,  for  the  preacher 
claimed  her  attention. 

"How  far  East  are  you  going  ? "  he  asked. 

"To  mother's  old  home  in  New  England,"  said 
the  girl.  The  preacher  gave  a  surprised  whistle. 
"  Was  your  mother  raised  back  there  ?  "  he  demanded. 
"Well,  I  never  should  have  known  but  she  was  a 
born  Hoosier." 

As  a  born  Hoosier  herself  the  young  lady  appre- 
ciated the  compliment.  "  No,"  she  said,  "  mother 
came  from  Massachusetts ;  but  she's  lived  here  twenty 
years,  and  I  don't  suppose  there's  much  difference 
now." 

"  Oh,  we'll  let  her  have  the  name  now,"  said  the 
F 


66  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

preacher,  good-naturedly.  "  But  it's  queer  I  never 
heard  her  say  a  word  about  '  Boston.'  " 

"She  didn't  come  from  Boston,"  said  Esther. 
"  There's  ever  so  much  of  New  England  outside  of 
Boston,  you  know." 

"Tears  to  cover  the  whole  ground  for  most  Yan- 
kees," said  the  preacher,  dryly.  "  I  don't  recollect  as 
I  ever  talked  with  any  of  'em  —  except  your  mother 
—  that  it  didn't  leak  out  mighty  quick  if  they'd  come 
from  anywheres  near  the  '  Hub.'  'Feared  to  carry  it 
round  as  a  sort  of  measuring  stick,  to  size  up  every- 
thing else  by." 

His  figure  was  a  trifle  mixed,  but  it  met  the  case. 
After  a  moment  he  added  :  "  Well,  I'm  right  glad  you're 
going.  It's  a  good  thing  for  young  folks  to  see 
something  of  the  world  outside  of  the  home  corner. 
I  always  thought  I'd  like  to  travel  a  bit  myself,  but 
I  reckon  I'll  never  get  to  do  it  any  other  way  than 
going  round  with  a  threshing  machine,  and  that  don't 
exactly  hit  my  notion  of  travelling  for  pleasure.  Eh, 
Mort  ? "  he  queried,  turning  to  the  young  man  be- 
hind him. 

The  latter  was  not  in  a  mood  to  feel  the  full  humor 
of  the  remark,  which  he  had  heard  in  spite  of  his 
apparent  attention  to  Kate's  lively  chatter.  "  Can't 
say  there's  much  variety  in  it,"  he  replied  rather 
absently. 


BETWEEN    TIMES.  6/ 

"  However,"  continued  the  preacher,  turning  again 
to  Esther,  "  I  did  go  to  Kentucky  once  when  I  was 
a  little  chap.  No,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head,  as  he 
caught  the  eager  question  in  her  eyes,  "not  in  the 
Blue  Grass  country  where  your  father  was  raised, 
but  in  among  the  knobs  where  the  Cumberlands  be- 
gin. It  was  a  mighty  poor  rough  country.  I  reckon 
you'll  see  something  of  the  same  sort  where  you're 
going." 

"  Oh,  but  that  is  a  beautiful  country !  Mother  has 
always  said  so,"  cried  the  girl,  looking  quite  dis- 
tressed. 

"Well,  maybe  you'd  call  that  country  down  there 
pretty  too,"  said  the  preacher,  with  easy  accommoda- 
tion, "though  it's  all  in  a  heap,  and  rocks  all  over 
it.  Reminds  me  of  the  story  about  a  soldier  from 
somewhere  hereabouts  that  was  going  through  there 
in  the  war-time,  and  stopped  to  talk  a  minute  with  a 
fellow  that  was  hoeing  corn.  '  Well,  stranger,'  says 
he,  'reckon  you're  about  ready  to  move  out  of  here.' 
'  Why  so  ? '  says  the  fellow,  looking  sort  of  stupid. 
'Why,  I  see  you've  got  the  land  all  rolled  up  ready 
to  start,'  says  the  soldier." 

Th«  preacher  interrupted  his  mellow  drawl  for  a 
moment  to  join  in  her  laugh  at  the  story,  then  went 
on :  "  Now  my  notion  of  a  pretty  country  is  one  that 


68  WHEAT   AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

looks  as  if  you  could  raise  something  on  it;  the  sort 
we've  got  round  here,  you  know,"  he  added,  stretch- 
ing out  his  arm  with  an  inclusive  gesture. 

His  idea  of  landscape  beauty  was  not  Esther 
Northmore's,  but  as  she  looked  at  that  moment  over 
the  peaceful  country,  golden  and  green  with  its  gen- 
erous harvests,  with  here  and  there  a  stretch  of  for- 
est rising  tall  and  straight  against  the  sky,  she  felt 
its  quiet  charm  with  a  thrill  of  pride  and  gladness. 
"  Yes ;  this  is  a  beautiful  country,"  she  said  softly. 
"  I  shall  never  change  my  mind  about  that." 

They  had  reached  a  point  where  another  road 
crossed  the  one  they  were  following,  and  the  preacher 
paused  in  his  walk.  "  I  must  turn  off  here,"  he 
said.  "  Good-by  !  and  take  care  of  yourselves."  He 
shook  hands  heartily  with  each  of  the  girls,  and 
added,  with  a  nod  at  Esther :  "  Give  my  special  re- 
gards to  your  mother.  Tell  her  I've  just  found  out 
that  she's  a  Yankee,  and  I  don't  think  any  less  of 
her  for  it." 

He  was  an  odd  genius,  this  New  Light  preacher. 
The  Northmores  were  by  no  means  of  his  flock, 
but  the  feeling  between  them  was  most  cordial.  In 
his  office  of  comforter  he  had  touched  that  of  the 
healer  more  than  once  among  the  families  under  his 
care,  and  the  touch  had  left  a  mutual  respect  be- 


HE  LEANED  ON  THE  GATE  WHEN  HE  HAD  OPENED  IT  FOR  THE  GIRLS.' 


BETWEEN    TIMES.  69 

tween  him  and  the  doctor.  With  Mrs.  Northmore 
the  feeling  was  even  warmer.  Rough  and  ill-edu- 
cated as  he  was,  there  was  a  native  force  and 
shrewdness  in  the  man  by  no  means  common,  and 
they  were  joined  with  a  frank  honesty  which  would 
have  attracted  her  in  a  far  less  interesting  person 
than  he. 

Morton  Elwell  walked  on  to  the  house,  but  refused 
the  girls'  invitation  to  come  in  to  supper.  "  You  know 
mother  would  like  to  have  you,"  Esther  said,  with 
polite  urgence.  "  She  was  complaining  the  other  (Jay 
that  we  saw  so  little  of  you." 

But  Morton  was  resolute.  Perhaps  the  thresher's 
costume  in  which  he  was  arrayed,  the  blue  flannel  shirt, 
jean  trousers,  and  heavy  boots,  none  too  black,  helped 
him  to  stand  by  the  promise  he  had  given  Mrs.  Elwell. 
"  No,"  he  said ;  "  I  told  Aunt  Jenny  I  wouldn't  fail  to 
come  home  to  supper."  But  he  leaned  on  the  gate 
when  he  had  opened  it  for  the  girls,  and  stood  for  a 
minute  as  if  he  found  it  hard  to  turn  away. 

"  Of  course  you'll  write  to  me  first,"  he  said,  glanc- 
ing from  one  to  the  other.  There  had  been  a  corre- 
spondence of  a  desultory  sort  between  them  ever  since 
he  went  away  to  college,  and  he  seemed  to  take  for 
granted  that  it  would  go  on  now.  And  then  he  added, 
looking  to  Esther,  "  You  wrote  to  me  real  often  when 


7O  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

you  were  a  little  girl,  and  went  to  your  grandfather's 
before." 

Her  color  rose  a  trifle.  "You  have  a  remarkably 
good  memory,  Mort,  to  remember  such  little  things 
when  they  happened  so  long  ago,"  she  said  lightly. 

"Why,  I've  got  every  one  of  them  now,"  he  replied. 
"  I  was  looking  them  over  not  so  very  long  ago,  and 
they  were  the  j oiliest  kind  of  letters,  with  little  post- 
scripts added  by  Kate  in  cipher.  She  was  five,  I  be- 
lieve, then.  They  were  joint  productions  in  those  days, 
but  you  needn't  feel  obliged  to  make  them  so  now." 

"  I  suppose  we  needn't  feel  '  obliged '  to  write  them 
at  all,"  she  said,  lifting  her  eyebrows  a  little. 

"  Oh,  you  wouldn't  go  back  on  a  fellow  like  that !  " 
said  Morton.  "  Why,  it  would  break  me  all  up." 

There  was  something  so  affectionately  boyish  in  his 
manner  that  Kate  said  instantly :  "  Of  course  we'll 
write  to  you,  and  tell  you  everything  that  happens. 
You  may  wish  my  letters  were  postscripts  again  before 
you  get  through  with  them." 

And  Esther  added  cheerfully,  "Yes,  if  you  want  to 
add  a  few  more  specimens  of  my  handwriting  to  that 
ancient  collection,  you  shall  certainly  have  them." 

"  Maybe  we'll  send  you  our  pictures  too,"  said  Kate." 
"We're  going  to  have  some  taken  after  we  get  there, 
and  if  they're  good  — 


BETWEEN    TIMES.  /I 

He  broke  in  upon  her  with  a  sudden  eagerness. 
"  Well,  don't  let  your  cousin  get  you  up  like  statues.  I 
hate  that  kind." 

Kate  burst  into  a  laugh,  but  Esther  looked  impatient. 
"  Oh,  dear,  don't  you  know  that  common,  everyday  faces 
like  ours  can't  be  made  to  look  that  way  ? "  she  said. 

"Can't  they?  Well,  I'm  awfully  glad  of  it,"  he 
replied.  "  Good-by."  And  then  he  grasped  their 
hands  for  a  moment,  and  struck  off  at  a  long,  swinging 
gait  across  the  field  that  lay  between  their  home  and 
his  uncle's. 

The  days  that  were  left  ran  fast.  They  were  full 
and  hurried,  as  the  last  days  of  preparation  are  apt  to 
be  in  spite  of  the  best-laid  plans.  But  the  girls  man- 
aged to  take  some  rides  with  their  father,  who,  in  view 
of  the  coming  separation,  seemed  to  expect  more  of 
their  company  than  usual,  and  Kate  contrived  to  hold 
some  sittings  in  the  kitchen  with  Aunt  Milly,  who  had 
been  in  a  depressed  state  of  mind  ever  since  the  sum- 
mer plan  had  been  decided  on.  In  spite  of  being  one 
who  held  with  no  superstitions,  a  fact  she  never  failed 
to  mention  when  she  had  anything  of  a  mysterious 
nature  to  communicate,  the  number  of  dreams  and 
presentiments  she  had  in  regard  to  this  visit  was  re- 
markable, and  they  all  tended  to  throw  doubt  on  the 
probability  of  her  darlings'  return. 


72  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

"Why,  we  came  back  when  we  were  children," 
said  Kate  one  evening,  when  the  old  woman  was  un- 
usually depressed,  "and  it  was  just  as  far  to  grand- 
father's then  as  it  is  now.  It's  because  you're  getting 
old  and  rheumatic  that  you  feel  so  blue  about  us,  Aunt 
Milly." 

But  Milly  sighed  as  she  shook  her  head.  "  It  was 
different  in  those  days,  honey,"  she  said.  "  You  couldn't 
help  comin'  back  to  your  ole  mammy  when  you  were 
chil'en.  But  you're  older  now,  an'  a  mighty  good 
looking  pair  o'  girls,  if  I  do  say  it,  an'  there's  no  tellin' 
what  may  happen  when  you  get  to  gallivantin'  roun' 
with  the  young  men  in  your  mother's  country." 

"  Now,  Aunt  Milly,"  laughed  Kate,  "  you've  always 
pretended  to  think  we're  only  children  still,  and  all  at 
once  you  talk  as  if  we  were  grown-up  young  ladies.  It's 
no  such  thing.  Besides,"  she  added  cunningly,  "  didn't 
we  come  back  safe  and  sound  from  Kentucky  last  year  ? 
And  you  know  there  are  no  young  men  anywhere  to 
hold  a  candle  with  those  down  there." 

"  That's  a  fac',  honey,"  said  Aunt  Milly,  lifting  her 
head.  "  The  ole  Kentucky  stock  don't  have  to  knock 
under  yet,  if  some  things  is  changed." 

"  Trust  Milly  to  stand  up  for  her  own  country," 
laughed  Dr.  Northmore,  who  had  paused  in  his  passage 
through  the  kitchen,  and  caught  the  last  remark. 


BETWEEN    TIMES.  73 

"And  me  for  mine,  papa,"  cried  Kate.  "I  shall 
always  like  it  better  than  any  other.  I  know  I  shall." 

Apparently  he  did  not  disapprove  the  sentiment,  but 
he  added  warningly,  "  Well,  make  it  big  enough."  And 
then  he  took  her  away  with  him  to  join  the  family  con- 
clave in  talking  over  the  proposed  journey. 

They  were  small  travellers,  the  Northmores,  and  the 
excursions  from  home  had  of  late  years  been  short.  The 
length  of  the  one  about  to  be  taken  impressed  them  all. 
Mrs.  Northmore  spoke  of  it  with  manifest  anxiety,  and 
the  doctor  spent  much  time  poring  over  the  railroad 
guide  and  time-table.  It  was  a  work  which,  in  spite 
of  its  fascination,  harassed  him,  and  he  alternated  be- 
tween the  exasperated  opinion  that  it  was  impossible  for 
any  man  not  inspired  to  understand  its  vexatious  fig- 
ures, and  a  disposition  to  combat  with  vehemence  any 
one  who  reached  a  conclusion  different  from  his  own  on 
a  single  point.  By  this  time  the  course  of  the  journey 
had  been  fully  decided  on.  There  would  be  but  one 
change  of  cars,  and  this  had  been  hedged  about  with  so 
much  of  explanation  and  admonition  that  no  two  girls 
of  average  sense  could  possibly  go  wrong. 

The  day  came  at  last,  and  a  perfect  day  it  was,  when 
they  started  off.  The  doctor  and  Virgie  accompanied 
them  to  the  station,  but  Mrs.  Northmore  preferred  to 
say  the  last  word  quietly  at  home.  There  was  a  crowd 


74  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

of  young  people  gathered  at  the  station,  but  the  time 
for  good-bys  was  brief.  The  through  train  for  the 
East  was  not  a  moment  behind  time.  There  was  a 
short  impatient  stop  of  the  iron  steed,  a  sudden  crowd- 
ing together  for  hurried  farewells,  then  two  flushed 
faces,  half  smiling,  half  tearful,  pressed  against  the  win- 
dow, and  the  great  wheels  were  in  motion  again  and  the 
travellers  on  their  way. 

They  drew  a  long  breath  as  they  settled  fairly  into 
their  seats.  "  I'm  glad  that  part  of  it's  over,"  said 
Kate. 

"So  am  I,"  said  Esther;  and  then  she  added:  "I'm 
glad  we  don't  get  there  right  away.  It's  nice  to  have 
an  interlude  between  the  acts." 


CHAPTER   IV. 

AT    THE    OLD    PLACE. 

THE  journey  to  New  England  was  more  than  a  mere 
interlude  for  the  girls.  It  was  a  distinct  pleasure 
in  itself.  To  watch  the  low,  rich  landscape  which 
had  lain  around  them  from  their  infancy  change 
imperceptibly  to  one  different  and  bolder ;  the  broad 
fields  narrowing ;  the  long,  rolling  swells  lifting  into 
clear-cut  hills;  the  forests  of  beech  and  oak,  with 
smooth,  sunlighted  floors,  giving  place  to  woods  filled 
with  a  bewitching  tangle  of  vines  and  ferns  —  all  this 
was  a  constant  delight  to  travellers  as  fresh  and  unsated 
as  ours. 

"  I  like  the  wide,  open  stretches  better,"  said  Kate 
once,  when  they  were  winding  with  many  turns  between 
the  close-set  hills.  But  Esther  did  not  assent  to  this. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  nature  had  heaped  the  measure 
of  her  bounty  here,  —  the  bounty  which  is  beauty,  — 
not  spread  it  out  in  even  level,  and  something  in  her 
heart  responded  to  the  change. 

The  hills  had  sharpened  to  a  rugged  sternness,  the 

75 


76  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

fields  were  checkered  off  in  little  plots  by  lines  of 
gray  stone  walls,  plots  in  which  men  were  gathering 
hay  behind  oxen  instead  of  horses,  when  at  last  they 
reached  the  village  of  Esterly. 

They  had  passed  a  succession  of  such  villages, 
catching  just  a  glimpse  of  pretty  homes  and  shaded 
streets,  with  always  a  spire  or  two  lifted  above  them, 
—  an  endless  number  it  seemed  to  the  girls,  —  but  this 
was  the  name  for  which  they  had  been  breathlessly 
waiting,  and  it  was  no  sooner  spoken  than  they  rose 
unsteadily  in  their  places  and  turned  their  faces 
toward  the  door. 

"They'll  be  here,  of  course.  I  only  hope  we  shall 
know  them,"  murmured  Esther,  anxiously. 

She  need  have  had  no  fear.  Aside  from  some 
functionaries  of  the  station  there  were  but  two  persons 
on  the  platform  of  the  Esterly  depot  when  the  West- 
ern train  drew  in,  and  these  two  were  unmistakable. 
One  of  them  was  an  old  man,  leaning  eagerly  forward, 
with  his  hands  clasped  on  the  top  of  his  cane ;  a  small, 
spare  man,  with  clean-shaven  face,  and  a  touch  of 
ruddy  color  in  his  cheeks,  hair  but  slightly  gray,  and 
bright  blue  eyes  which  searched  the  faces  before  him 
without  the  aid  of  spectacles.  The  other  was  a  petite 
young  lady,  in  a  stylish  dress,  with  a  mist  of  golden 
hair  about  her  face,  and  a  hat,  which  seemed  to  belong 


AT    THE    OLD    PLACE.  77 

exactly  with  the  face,  tied  in  a  gauzy  mesh  of  some- 
thing under  her  chin.  She  did  not  look  in  the  least 
like  a  goddess,  she  was  too  slight  and  genteel ;  but 
she  was  clearly  Stella  Saxon. 

"  Grandfather !  Stella !  "  came  from  the  one  side  in  a 
moment,  and  "  Girls !  Girls !  "  from  the  other,  as  the 
four  met  and  embraced. 

"We  knew  somebody  would  be  here  to  meet  us," 
said  Esther,  when  they  had  taken  another  breath  and 
a  good  look  at  each  other ;  "  but  I'd  no  idea  it  would 
be  you,  grandfather." 

"  Hm,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  evidently  enjoying 
her  surprise.  "  Mebbe  you  thought  I'd  be  propped  up 
in  a  big  chair  waiting  for  you  at  the  house." 

"  If  you  knew  the  state  of  mind  he's  been  in  since 
morning  !  "  said  Stella.  "  We  got  Uncle  Doctor's  tele- 
gram early,  saying  you'd  be  here  on  this  train,  and 
grandfather  seemed  to  regard  it  as  a  summons  to  start 
for  you  at  once.  Mother  and  I  had  hard  work  to  hold 
him  back  at  all,  and  in  spite  of  us  he  would  start  an 
hour  before  time  this  afternoon;  actually  hurried  his 
horse  to  get  here,  too,"  she  added,  glancing  with  a 
little  grimace  at  the  fattest  of  family  horses  which 
was  standing  before  the  two-seated  carriage  at  the 
side  of  the  depot.  "  I  shudder  to  think  what  would 
have  happened  to  him  if  you  hadn't  come." 


78  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

She  was  saying  this  last  to  Esther  privately. 
The  old  gentleman  had  started  briskly  off  with  Kate 
to  look  after  the  trunks.  These  were  to  follow  to  the 
farm  in  a  spring  wagon,  and  securing  them  was  a 
matter  involving  so  little  delay  at  this  quiet  station 
that  the  four  were  very  shortly  on  their  way  behind 
the  gray  nag,  which,  after  receiving  an  admonishing 
"cluck"  at  starting  off,  was  allowed  to  settle  to  his 
own  jog-trot  without  further  attention.  They  made 
a  long  circuit  through  the  main  street  of  the  village, 
the  old  gentleman  bowing  and  smiling  to  every  one 
he  met,  and  obviously  eager  to  attract  attention. 
But  as  the  houses  grew  more  scattering  he  laid  the 
reins  across  his  lap,  put  on  a  pair  of  spectacles,  and 
for  a  full  minute  gazed  through  them  steadily  at  his 
granddaughters. 

"  You  look  as  your  mother  did  at  your  age ;  won- 
derfully like,"  he  said,  with  his  eyes  on  Esther's  face, 
"  and  you,  too,  but  not  so  much,"  he  added  more 
slowly,  turning  to  Kate.  He  took  off  his  spectacles 
and  returned  them  to  an  old-fashioned  steel  case; 
then  asked,  with  much  deliberation,  "  And  what  do 
you  think  of  your  old  grandfather  ? " 

"Why,  you  look  just  as  I  thought  you  did,  only 
so  very  much  younger,"  replied  Esther.  "  I'd  no 
idea  you  were  so  strong  and  active."  She  paused 


AT  THE  OLD  PLACE.  79 

an  instant,  then,  with  a  charming  eagerness  in  her 
voice,  added :  "  You  make  me  think  of  the  '  Farmer 
of  Tilsbury  Vale.'  You  know  the  poem  says, — 

" '  His  bright  eyes  look  brighter,  set  off  by  the  streak 
Of  the  unfaded  rose  that  still  blooms  on  his  cheek.'  " 

The  old  gentleman  made  no  attempt  to  conceal  his 
elation.  He  fairly  beamed ;  and  Stella  murmured  in 
Esther's  ear :  "  You've  done  it !  His  youthful  looks 
are  his  particular  vanity ;  and  to  have  a  fresh  quota- 
tion brought  to  bear  upon  the  subject !  "  She  lifted 
her  hands  as  if  in  despair  of  expressing  the  effect 
on  her  grandfather,  and  settled  back  in  her  seat.  He 
had  turned  to  Kate  and  was  plainly  waiting  for  her 
to  speak  now. 

"  Well,"  said  that  young  lady,  regarding  him  with 
cheerful  scrutiny,  "  I  can't  quote  any  poetry  about  it. 
It's  always  Esther  who  puts  in  the  fine  strokes  with 
that  sort  of  thing  ;  but  I  must  say  I  think  you  look 
mighty  young  for  a  man  of  your  age." 

In  its  way  this  was  equally  good.  Ruel  Saxon  evi- 
dently considered  that  she  had  used  a  very  strong 
expression. 

"  Well,"  he  said  with  complacence,  "  I  guess  there 
ain't  much  doubt  but  what  I  do  bear  my  age  better  'n 
most  men  at  my  time  of  life.  I  guess  I'm  some 


8O  WHEAT   AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

like  Moses  about  that.  You  know  it  says,  'his  eye 
was  not  dim  nor  his  natural  force  abated,'  when  he 
got  to  be  a  very  old  man." 

There  was  such  evident  surprise  on  the  part  of  his 
granddaughters  at  this  remark  that  he  added :  "  To 
be  sure,  Moses  was  a  good  deal  older  'n  I  am ;  he 
was  a  hundred  and  twenty  years  old  when  that  was 
said  of  him,  and  I  hain't  got  to  that  yet  by  consid- 
erable. But  I'm  past  the  time  of  life  that  most  men 
get  to,  a  good  deal  past.  I  was  born  in  the  year 
seventeen  hundred  and  ninety-one,  and  if  I  live  till 
the  twenty-first  day  of  next  June  I  shall  be  eighty- 
nine  years  old." 

He  paused  to  let  the  statement  take  full  effect, 
and  Stella  remarked :  "  That's  the  way  grandfather 
always  tells  his  age.  He  names  that  year,  away  back 
in  the  last  century,  and  then  he  tells  what  his  birth- 
day next  year  will  make  him.  I  don't  mind  his  keep- 
ing account  for  himself  that  way,  but  he  has  the 
same  style  of  reckoning  for  the  rest  of  us." 

"  Well,"  he  said,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes,  "  the 
women  would  forget  their  own  ages  if  it  warn't  for 
me  and  the  big  Bible.  Now  Stella  here  was  born 
in  the  year  —  " 

"  There,"  cried  the  girl,  "  what  did  I  tell  you  !  And 
isn't  it  enough  to  make  one  feel  ancient,  the  way  he 


AT    THE    OLD    PLACE.  8 1 

rolls  out  the  syllables  ?  Never  you  mind  about  me, 
grandfather.  Tell  the  girls  when  they  were  born. 
I'm  sure  they've  forgotten." 

They  admitted  the  fact  promptly,  but  he  had  not 
yet  exhausted  the  subject  of  his  own  exceptional  for- 
tune in  withstanding  the  ravages  of  age.  It  was  a 
theme  of  which  he  was  never  weary,  largely  no  doubt 
from  a  certain  vanity,  which  time  had  spared  to  him 
in  a  somewhat  unusual  measure,  along  with  his  phys- 
ical powers.  To  have  a  fresh  and  interested  audi- 
ence was  inspiration  enough. 

"  It's  a  great  blessing  to  retain  one's  faculties  in 
old  age,"  he  said  impressively.  "  Now  I  enjoy  life, 
for  aught  I  know,  pretty  near  as  much  as  I  ever 
did ;  but  it  ain't  so  with  everybody.  There  was  Bar- 
zillai,  for  instance.  He  was  a  younger  man,  by  eight 
years,  than  I  am,  but  he  must  have  been  terrible 
hard  of  hearing,  by  his  own  account,  and  he'd  lost 
his  taste  so  that  there  warn't  any  flavor  to  him  in 
the  victuals  he  ate ;  though  he  seems  to  have  been 
an  active  enough  man  in  some  ways,"  he  added  re- 
flectively. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause  during  which  Deacon 
Saxon  doubtless  mused  upon  his  own  mercies,  and  his 
granddaughters  pondered  the  question,  who  the  unfor- 
tunate octogenarian  whom  he  had  just  mentioned  might 


82  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

be.  Esther  could  not  remember  ever  hearing  of  any 
relative  of  that  name,  and  it  hardly  seemed  to  have  a 
local  flavor.  She  was  glad  when  Kate,  who  seldom  re- 
mained ignorant  for  want  of  asking  a  question,  inquired 
briskly :  — 

"Who  was  this  Bar  —  what's  his  name,  that  you're 
talking  about  ?  " 

"Who  was  Barzillai?"  cried  the  old  man,  turning 
upon  the  girl  an  astonished  countenance.  "  Hain't  you 
never  heard  of  Barzillai,  the  Gileadite,  the  man  who 
went  down  to  give  sustenance  to  David  when  he  was 
fleeing  before  Absalom  ?  Don't  you  know  about  t/iat, 
and  how  David  afterwards  wanted  to  take  him  up  to 
Jerusalem  with  him,  but  Barzillai  said  he  was  too  old, 
and  asked  the  king  to  let  him  stay  in  his  own  place  ? 
Hain't  you  read  about  him  ?  Well,  I  never ! " 

He  paused  as  in  speechless  wonder,  then  ejaculated : 
"When  your  mother  was  your  age  she  could  have  told 
all  about  him  and  anybody  else  you  could  mention  out 
of  the  Bible.  What  on  airth  is  she  doing  that  she 
hain't  trained  you  up  to  know  about  it  ?  I  hope  she 
hain't  stopped  reading  the  scriptures  herself,  living  out 
there  in  the  West." 

"  Oh,  dear !  "  cried  Kate,  quite  overwhelmed  by  this 
burst,  and  in  her  jealousy  for  her  mother  indifferent  for 
the  moment  to  the  insinuation  against  her  native 


AT    THE    OLD    PLACE.  83 

section.  "  Mother  knows  more  about  the  Bible  than 
anybody  I  ever  saw,  —  except  you,  —  and  I've  no  doubt 
she  told  us  all  about  that  man  when  we  were  little  " 
(she  made  no  attempt  now  at  his  name),  "  but  I  never 
could  remember  those  Old  Testament  folks." 

It  is  doubtful  whether  Ruel  Saxon  felt  much  re- 
assured as  to  the  training  his  daughter  had  given  her 
children  by  the  cheerful  manner  in  which  Kate  made 
the  last  admission.  For  himself  his  delight  in  those 
"  Old  Testament  folks  "  was  perennial.  He  had  pored 
over  their  histories  till  every  incident  of  their  lives  was 
as  familiar  to  him  as  that  of  his  own  neighbors.  He 
had  entered  so  intimately  into  the  thoughts  and  experi- 
ences of  those  ancient  worthies  that  it  was  no  meaning- 
less phrase  when,  in  his  daily  prayers,  he  asked  that 
he  might  "  sit  down  with  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob  in 
the  kingdom  of  Heaven." 

Ruel  Saxon  was  a  type  of  that  class  of  men,  passing 
away  now  even  from  the  hills  of  New  England,  who 
from  infancy  were  so  steeped  in  knowledge  of  the 
Bible  that  its  incidents  formed  the  very  background  of 
their  daily  thinking,  and  its  language  colored  their 
common  conversation.  It  must  be  confessed  that  in 
the  Old  Testament  he  found  his  keenest  pleasure,  but 
between  the  covers  of  the  Old  or  New  there  was 
no  spot  which  was  not  to  him  revered  and  familiar 


84  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

ground.  That  all  scripture  was  given  by  inspira- 
tion of  God,  and  was  "  profitable  for  doctrine,  for 
reproof,  and  for  instruction  in  righteousness,"  was  a 
part  of  his  creed  on  which  no  shadow  of  doubt  had  ever 
fallen.  The  doctrine,  according  to  his  lights,  he 
maintained  with  unction ;  the  instruction  he  counted 
himself  well  qualified  to  give ;  and  the  reproof  he  felt 
equally  called  to  administer  on  all  needful  occasions. 

It  was  some  minutes  before  he  could  quite  recover 
from  the  astonishment  of  finding  himself  the  direct 
progenitor  of  two  young  people  who  knew  nothing  of 
that  worthy  Gileadite  whose  state  in  old  age  formed 
such  a  striking  contrast  to  his  own.  Probably  he 
would  have  delivered  a  little  homily,  then  and  there,  on 
the  importance  of  reading  the  Bible,  had  not  a  turn  in 
the  road  at  the  top  of  a  long  steep  hill  brought  them 
suddenly  into  sight  of  the  old  Saxon  homestead. 

"  There  'tis  !  There's  the  old  place  !  Should  you 
know  it  ? "  he  demanded  of  his  granddaughters. 

Esther  leaned  forward  from  the  back  seat  where  she 
was  sitting  with  Stella  and  gazed  for  a  moment,  almost 
holding  her  breath.  Then  she  lifted  a  pair  of  moist 
shining  eyes  to  her  grandfather.  "  I  should  know  it 
anywhere,"  she  said,  with  a  thrill  in  her  voice.  "  It 
looks  just  as  I  have  dreamed  of  it  all  these  years." 

Indeed  it  was  a  picture  which  might  easily  hold  its 


AT  THE  OLD  PLACE.  85 

place  in  a  loving  memory ;  an  old  white  house,  with  a 
wide  stone  chimney  rising  in  the  middle  of  a  square 
old-fashioned  roof,  standing  in  the  shelter  of  a  cluster 
of  elms,  so  tall,  so  noble,  and  so  gracious  in  their  bear- 
ing that  the  special  guardianship  of  Heaven  seemed 
resting  on  the  spot. 

Kate  had  been  looking  at  it  steadily  too,  but  she 
shook  her  head  as  she  glanced  away.  "  No,"  she  said, 
"  I  shouldn't  know  that  I'd  ever  seen  it  before ;  but  if 
you  had  handed  me  the  reins,  grandfather,  and  told 
me  to  find  it  somewhere  on  this  road,  I  don't  think  I 
should  have  turned  in  at  the  wrong  place." 

They  talked  of  nothing  else  as  they  drove  slowly 
toward  it.  The  motion  Ruel  Saxon  had  made  —  a 
most  unusual  one  —  to  apply  the  lash  to  Dobbin  had 
been  checked  by  Esthert  who  declared  she  wanted  to 
take  in  the  details  one  by  one,  and  begged  him,  with 
feeling,  not  to  go  too  fast,  a  request  which  threw  Stella 
into  a  state  of  inward  convulsion  from  which  she  barely 
recovered  in  time  to  prevent  the  old  gentleman  from 
monopolizing  the  whole  distance  with  an  account  of  the 
various  improvements  he  had  made  on  the  house,  nota- 
bly the  last  shingling  and  the  raising  of  the  door-sills. 

"  You  might  tell  the  girls  how  you  didn't  change  the 
windows,"  she  said  slyly ;  but  if  he  was  inclined  to  do 
this,  Esther's  exclamation  just  then  prevented. 


86  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

" Oh,  those  dear  little  old-fashioned  windows!"  she 
cried.  "They're  blinking  in  the  sunshine  just  as  they 
used  to.  Grandfather  dear,  I'm  so  glad  you  haven't 
had  them  changed  into  something  different." 

He  winced  a  little  at  this,  and  Stella  said  magnani- 
mously, "  It  was  really  my  mother's  idea.  She  does 
complain  sometimes  of  the  trouble  it  is  to  keep  all 
those  tiny  little  window-panes  clean,  and  so  grand- 
father thought  one  spring  that  he'd  have  some  new 
sashes  put  in,  with  a  single  pane  of  glass  above  and 
below.  They  had  it  all  fixed  up  between  them,  but  I 
came  home  just  in  time  to  prevent."  She  gave  a 
shudder,  then  added :  "  I've  always  believed  in  special 
providences  since  then.  Why,  the  change  would  have 
been  ruinous,  simply  ruinous !  You  know  if  you  can't 
have  a  lovely  new  house  with  everything  graceful  and 
artistic,  the  next  best  thing  is  to  have  one  that's  old 
and  quaint.  I  wouldn't  have  a  thing  changed  about 
our  house  for  any  consideration.  I've  set  my  foot 
down  about  that."  (With  all  her  daintiness  she  looked 
as  if  she  could  do  it  with  effect.)  "  But  mother  and 
grandfather  understand  now,  and  have  given  their 
solemn  promise  never  to  make  the  smallest  alteration 
without  consulting  me." 

The  old  gentleman  had  been  listening  to  this  with 
his  mouth  pulled  down  to  an  expression  of  resignation 


AT    THE    OLD    PLACE.  8? 

which  was  clearly  not  natural  to  him.  "Well,"  he  said, 
when  she  had  reached  her  triumphant  conclusion,  "  I've 
always  been  of  the  opinion  that  it's  best  to  let  women- 
folks have  their  way  about  things  in  the  house.  It 
pacifies  'em,  and  makes  'em  willing  to  let  the  men  man- 
age things  of  more  consequence.  You  know  Solomon 
says  '  it  is  better  to  dwell  in  the  wilderness  than  with  a 
contentious  woman.' ' 

"That's  a  fact,  grandfather,"  said  Stella,  cordially; 
"  and  there's  no  describing  how  contentious  I  should  be 
if  you  set  about  changing  this  old  house." 

They  had  almost  reached  it  now.  A  minute  more 
carried  them  under  the  elms,  straight  to  the  door.  It 
was  open,  and  under  the  latticed  porch,  covered  with 
honeysuckles  on  one  side  and  bitter-sweet  on  the  other, 
stood  Aunt  Elsie  waiting  to  receive  them.  She  was 
a  delicate-looking  woman,  whose  quality,  as  one  read 
it  at  first  glance,  was  distinctly  that  of  a  lady.  That 
she  was  somewhat  precise  and  old-fashioned  came  next, 
in  spite  of  the  graceful  French  twist  in  her  hair  and 
her  pretty  lavender  dress.  She  kept  her  place  under 
the  lattice,  the  color  rising  slightly  in  her  thin  cheeks 
as  the  girls  came  up,  and  her  manner  of  greeting  them, 
though  affectionate,  had  none  of  the  eager  warmth  of 
the  earlier  meeting. 

Aunt  Elsie  Saxon,  beside  her  vivacious  daughter,  or 


88  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

her  still  more  sprightly  father-in-law,  seemed  a  sin- 
gularly colorless  person,  but  her  quiet  unresponsive 
manner  covered  a  stronger  individuality  than  appeared. 
The  war  had  made  her  a  widow  at  the  very  beginning 
of  the  struggle.  In  the  bereavement  of  those  first  days 
she  had  come  with  her  children  to  the  old  home  for  the 
help  and  comfort  she  sorely  needed,  but  the  time  never 
came  when  she  could  be  spared  to  leave  it.  And  now 
lor  many  years  she  had  been  mistress  of  the  house, 
bearing  with  the  somewhat  erratic  humors  of  Ruel 
Saxon  as  a  more  impulsive  woman  could  hardly  have 
done,  and  consoled,  no  doubt,  for  much  that  was  trying 
by  the  certain  knowledge  that  in  his  heart  he  loved  and 
leaned  upon  her. 

There  was  one  other  member  of  the  family  circle, 
Tom,  the  sixteen-year-old  boy,  but  he,  it  appeared,  had 
some  pressing  duty  in  the  field.  At  least  he  did  not 
show  himself  till  supper  time,  and  then  he  slipped  in 
with  the  hired  man,  who,  as  well  as  himself,  was  duly 
introduced  to  the  cousins.  He  was  a  shy,  awkward 
fellow,  with  a  freckled  face,  and  a  pair  of  shrewd  ob- 
servant eyes,  in  whose  glance  Kate  thought  she  detected 
a  lurking  disdain  for  the  society  of  girls.  She  wanted 
to  begin  making  his  acquaintance  at  once,  —  by  way  of 
punishment,  of  course,  — but  his  seat  was  too  far  from 
hers  at  the  table,  and  he  was  off  like  a  flash  when  the 
meal  was  over. 


AT  THE  OLD  PLACE.  89 

It  seemed  to  both  the  girls  that  this  was  the  longest 
day  they  had  ever  known,  but  its  hours  did  not  outlast 
the  pleasure  they  brought.  Esther  could  not  rest  till 
she  had  rambled  about  the  place  to  find  the  old  familiar 
things,  and  her  delight,  as  she  came  upon  one  after 
another,  knew  no  bounds.  There  was  the  cherry  tree, 
almost  strangled  by  the  grape-vine  which  hung  around 
it  in  a  thick  green  canopy,  under  which  she  had  done 
miniature  housekeeping  in  those  childish  days,  and  a 
fragment  of  old  blue  china,  trodden  in  the  ground,  was 
a  find  to  bring  a  joy  like  that  of  relic-hunters  in  Assy- 
rian mounds,  when  they  come  upon  some  mighty 
treasure. 

"  It  was  a  part  of  our  best  tea-set,  Stella,"  she  cried. 
"  Don't  you  remember  how  I  broke  one  of  grandmoth- 
er's company  plates  by  accident,  and  after  mourning 
over  it  a  little  in  her  gentle  way,  she  gave  us  the  pieces 
to  play  with,  so  I  shouldn't  feel  too  badly  ? "  She 
wiped  the  bit  on  her  lace-edged  handkerchief  and  held 
it  for  a  moment  lovingly  against  her  cheek. 

There  was  the  bunch  of  striped  grass,  growing  still 
at  the  corner  of  the  garden,  and  she  felt  a  childish  im- 
pulse to  throw  herself  on  the  ground  beside  it,  and  hunt, 
as  she  used  to,  for  two  of  the  long  silky  spears  which 
would  exactly  match.  She  had  never  quite  done  it  in 
the  old  days.  Perhaps  she  could  find  them  now.  She 


9O  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

peered  up  into  the  tallest  of  the  elms  and  shouted  for 
joy  to  find  the  nest  of  a  fire  hangbird  swinging  just  as 
it  used  to  among  the  long,  lithe  branches.  She  made 
her  way  straight  to  the  tree  where  the  pound  sweetings 
grew,  and  laughed  to  find  that  it  bore  them  still,  large 
and  golden  as  ever. 

And  here  again  a  childish  memory  came  back  with  a 
rippling  delight  over  the  years  that  were  past.  "  Do 
you  remember  how  I  tore  my  dress  one  day,  climbing 
that  tree  to  get  apples  ?  "  she  appealed  to  Stella.  "  I 
could  never  bring  enough  down  in  my  pocket,  and  if  I 
took  a  basket  up  it  was  sure  to  spill  and  the  chickens 
to  peck  the  apples  before  I  got  down.  One  day  I  gave 
my  dress  a  horrible  tear  going  up.  It  scared  me  at  first, 
and  then  it  dawned  upon  me,  What  a  place  for  apples ! 
It  was  a  woollen  dress  and  the  skirt  was  lined.  I  used 
that  hole  for  a  pocket,  and  filled  the  skirt  full.  It's  a 
wonder  I  wasn't  dragged  from  the  tree  by  the  weight 
of  it.  The  gathers  were  dragged  from  the  belt,  I  re- 
member that  perfectly,  and  how  grandmother  looked 
when  I  went  in  to  share  the  booty  with  her,"  she  added, 
laughing. 

Oh,  it  was  pleasant,  this  wandering  over  the  old 
place,  the  finding  and  remembering  ! 

It  was  really  inside  the  house  that  things  were  most 
changed ;  but  this,  as  Stella  explained,  was  really  a  re- 


AT    THE    OLD    PLACE.  9 I 

turn  to  the  way  they  rightly  belonged.  Much  of  the 
furniture  which  Esther  remembered  as  crowding  the 
dusky  garret  had  come  down,  and  some  which  her 
grandmother  had  rejoiced  in  as  new  and  handsome 
had  taken  its  place  there.  The  haircloth  sofa  and 
chairs  over  which  she  had  slipped  and  slidden  in  her 
youthful  days  had  given  place  to  an  oak  settle  and 
chairs  which,  in  spite  of  their  old-fashioned  shape,  were 
roomy  and  comfortable.  One,  a  delicious  old  sleepy 
hollow,  covered  with  the  quaintest  of  chintz,  stood  in 
the  corner  which  had  been  the  grandmother's,  and  the 
little,  round  light-stand  was  beside  it,  with  the  leather- 
covered  Bible  smooth  as  glass,  and  the  candlestick  and 
snuffers,  as  if  she  still  might  sit  there  of  an  evening  to 
read. 

"  Grandfather  himself  prefers  a  lamp,"  Stella  re- 
marked, in  passing ;  "  he  says  he's  got  past  tallow 
dips,  but  out  of  respect  to  grandmother's  memory  — 
I  impressed  that  on  him  strongly  —  he  lets  me  keep 
the  stand  just  as  she  used  it." 

She  certainly  had  a  genius  for  restoring  the  old,  and 
doing  it  with  an  art  which  threw  all  its  stiffness  into 
graceful  lines.  The  fireplace  in  the  sitting  room,  which 
had  been  boarded  up  in  Esther's  day,  with  a  sheet- 
iron  stove  in  front  of  it,  was  open  now,  and  the  old 
brass  andirons  shone  at  the  front.  The  old  bricks 


Q2  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

had  been  cracked  with  age,  but  they  had  been  replaced 
by  some  blue  Dutch  tilings  representing  Bible  scenes, 
which  gave  the  whole  a  charmingly  quaint  effect. 

"  It  came  high,"  Stella  said  to  Esther,  who  hung 
on  every  word  of  explanation,  "  and  I  didn't  know 
for  a  while  as  I  should  get  what  I  wanted.  There 
was  a  Colonial  tile  that  would  have  been  perfect,  but 
grandfather  wouldn't  hear  of  it.  Then  all  at  once  I 
lighted  on  this  in  a  shop  in  Boston,  and  I  knew  the 
deed  was  done.  Grandfather  fell  a  victim  to  my  ac- 
count of  the  pictures,  and  I  couldn't  get  them  quick 
enough  to  suit  him.  I  consider  that  fireplace  my 
greatest  triumph." 

The  house  was  really  a  succession  of  them.  It  was 
only  at  the  pictures  on  the  walls  that  the  girl's  desire 
to  restore  the  old  had  stopped.  "  If  there  had  only 
been  some  fine  old  family  portraits !  "  she  said  mourn- 
fully. "  But  there  weren't.  I  suppose  our  ancestors 
never  had  any  money  to  spend  for  that  sort  of  thing. 
There  was  positively  nothing  but  some  wretched  prints, 
and  one  oil  painting  that  grandmother  saved  her  egg- 
money  for  months  to  buy ;  hideous  thing,  quite  on 
the  order  of  those  that  are  advertised  nowadays, 
'  Picture  painted  while  you  wait.'  I  had  to  banish 
them  all.  There  was  no  other  way.  But  I  found 
some  of  grandmother's  dear  old  samplers  tucked  away 


AT    THE    OLD   tLACE.  93 

in  the  drawers,  and  I  pinned  them  up  around  to  take 
the  edge  off  the  other  things." 

"  The  other  things "  were  some  of  them  her  own, 
and  they  mingled  on  the  walls  with  photographs  of 
foreign  scenes,  and  here  and  there  an  etching  with 
a  name  pencilled  in  the  corner,  to  which  she  called 
attention  as  they  passed,  with  the  air  of  one  confident 
of  impressing  the  beholder. 

"Oh,  I've  picked  up  a  few  good  things  in  the 
course  of  my  travels,"  she  said,  after  one  of  Esther's 
bursts  of  admiration.  "  I'll  defy  anybody  to  make  a 
better  showing  than  I  with  the  amount  I've  spent. 
Mother  thinks  I've  spent  too  much ;  but  it's  my  only 
extravagance,  positively  my  only  one,  and  you  have 
to  let  yourself  out  in  some  direction.  It's  all  that 
makes  saving  worth  while." 

She  seemed  to  have  no  vanity  about  her  own  work, 
but  there  was  one  bit  of  it  before  which  Esther  paused 
with  a  long  delight,  turning  back  from  famous  Ma- 
donnas again  and  again  to  gaze  at  it. 

It  was  a  picture  of  a  sweet  old  face,  framed  in  a 
grandmother's  cap,  very  softly  done  in  crayon,  and 
it  hung  above  the  little  stand  in  the  corner.  Below 
it,  pinned  carefully  on  the  wall,  was  an  old,  old  sam- 
pler, and  the  faded  letters  at  the  top  spelled,  "  Roxana 
Fuller,  aged  eleven."  It  was  a  deft  hand,  though  so 


94  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

young,  that  had  wrought  it.  There  was  exquisite 
needlework  in  the  flowing  border,  and  in  the  slender 
maidens  at  the  centre,  clasping  hands  under  a  weep- 
ing willow,  above  the  lines :  — 

"When  ye  fummers  all  are  fled, 
When  ye  wafting  lamp  is  dead, 
Where  immortal  fpirits  reign, 
There  may  we  two  meet  again." 

Why  these  two  sweet  creatures,  evidently  in  the 
bloom  of  life,  should  have  been  consoling  themselves 
with  this  pensive  sentiment  it  was  hard  to  see;  but 
a  consolation  it  may  have  been  to  the  poor  little  artist 
who  achieved  them  to  think  of  Elysian  fields  where 
teachers  should  cease  from  troubling  and  samplers 
be  no  more. 

It  had  grown  dark  in  the  house,  too  dark  for  any 
more  searching  of  its  treasures,  when  the  two  girls 
at  last  sat  quietly  down  in  the  old  south  doorway. 
"  If  grandmother  were  only  here  it  would  all  be  per- 
fect," said  Esther,  with  a  long,  soft  sigh.  "  Somehow 
it  seems  strange  that  she  should  be  gone,  and  every- 
thing else  just  as  it  used  to  be.  I  had  no  idea  I 
should  miss  her  so." 

"  I  always  miss  her  when  I  sit  in  this  doorway  in 
the  evening,"  said  Stella.  "  It  was  her  favorite  place. 
She  was  so  feeble  in  those  last  years  that  she  seldom 


AT    THE    OLD    PLACE.  95 

got  beyond  the  threshold,  but  she  said  there  was  always 
some  pleasant  smell  or  sound  coming  in  to  find  her. 
You  ought  to  have  seen  her  here  in  the  spring.  The 
door  was  always  boarded  up  in  the  winter,  with  a 
bank  across  the  threshold  to  keep  out  the  cold,  and 
she  was  so  happy  when  it  was  opened.  I  used  to 
tell  her  when  the  frogs  began  to  peep,  and  she  would 
listen  and  smile,  and  say  it  seemed  to  her  their  voices 
were  softer  than  they  used  to  be.  Dear  heart,  she  was 
so  deaf  in  those  days  that  I  really  suppose  she  only 
heard  them  singing  in  her  memory,  but  it  was  all  the 
same  to  her. 

"Yes,  it  was  all  the  same,"  she  repeated  musingly, 
"  and  just  as  real,  though  grandfather  used  to  argue 
with  her  sometimes  that  a  person  who  couldn't  hear  her 
own  name  across  the  room  couldn't  hear  frogs  peeping 
at  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  And  she  would  admit  it  some- 
times in  a  humble  way,  but  she  always  forgot  it,  and 
enjoyed  the  singing  just  the  same  the  next  evening." 

"  She  wasn't  a  bit  like  grandfather,  was  she  ? "  asked 
Esther.  She  wanted  Stella  to  keep  on  talking  about  this 
sweet  old  grandmother,  whom  she  herself  had  known 
only  in  a  brief  childish  way. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no,"  said  Stella;  "there  couldn't  be  two 
people  more  unlike.  She  never  talked  of  herself, 
and  she  never  quoted  scripture  unless  it  was  one  of 


96  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

the  promises.  Grandfather  always  lorded  it  over  her 
in  a  way,  and  she  was  so  frail  toward  the  last  that 
he  did  it  more  than  ever.  If  the  least  thing  ailed  her 
he  thought  she  was  going  to  die  right  off,  and  he 
always  felt  it  his  duty  to  tell  her  that  she  was  a  very 
sick  woman,  and  that  it  would  not  be  surprising  if 
she  were  drawing  near  her  end." 

She  made  a  soft  gurgling  in  her  throat,  then  went  on. 

"  But  that  never  worried  grandmother  a  bit.  She 
always  said  she  was  willing  to  go  if  'twas  the  Lord's 
will ;  but,  do  you  know,  in  her  heart  she  really  expected 
to  outlive  him !  She  told  me  so  once  confidentially, 
and  explained,  in  her  perfectly  sweet  way,  that  she 
knew  how  to  manage  him  better  than  any  one  else, 
and  she  was  afraid  it  would  be  a  little  hard  for  us  to 
get  along  with  him  if  she  were  gone.  She  said  it 
had  been  a  subject  of  prayer  with  her  for  years,  and 
she  had  faith  that  her  prayer  would  be  answered." 

She  paused,  and  Esther  said  gravely :  "  But  she  did 
die  before  him,  after  all.  I  wonder  what  she  thought 
about  her  prayer  then."  Stella  shook  her  head.  "  I 
don't  know,"  she  said ;  "  I  imagine  she  didn't  think 
of  it  at  all,  but  only  that  God  wanted  her.  It  would 
have  been  just  like  her." 

Esther  did  not  speak  for  a  minute.  She  was  pon- 
dering her  grandmother's  case,  while  the  crickets  in 


AT    THE    OLD    PLACE.  97 

the  grass  filled  the  stillness  with  their  chirping,  and 
the  long,  clear  call  of  a  whippoorwill  sounded  from 
the  woods.  Presently  she  asked,  "  Did  she  know 
at  the  last  that  she  was  really  going  to  die  ? " 

"  I  think  she  did,"  said  Stella.  "  I've  always  felt 
sure  she  did,  though  no  one  else  feels  just  as  I  do 
about  it." 

She  clasped  her  hands  about  her  knees,  and  a  graver 
note  than  usual  crept  into  her  musical  voice,  as  she 
went  on.  "  There  was  something  like  a  paralytic 
stroke  toward  the  end,  and  after  that  she  never  got 
up,  but  lay  in  bed,  not  suffering  any  pain,  but  only 
growing  weaker  every  day.  I  was  with  her  a  great 
deal,  and  there  never  was  any  one  easier  to  take  care 
of.  One  morning  I  was  watering  the  flowers  in  her 
window  and  I  saw  a  cluster  of  buds,  that  were  almost 
blown,  on  her  tea  rose.  She  was  passionately  fond  of 
flowers,  and  that  rose  was  a  special  favorite,  though 
it  blossomed  so  seldom  that  any  one  else  would  have 
lost  all  patience  with  it.  I  knew  how  pleased  she 
would  be,  so  I  took  it  over  to  her  bed.  '  Grand- 
mother,' I  said,  '  there  are  some  buds  on  your  tea 
rose ;  it'll  be  in  bloom  in  a  day  or  two.'  If  you  could 
have  seen  how  her  face  lighted  up !  '  Why,  why,' 
she  said,  '  my  tea  rose  !  '  And  then  she  put  out  her 
hands  all  of  a  tremble,  as  if  she  couldn't  believe 


98  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

it  without  touching.  I  guided  her  dear  old  fingers, 
and  she  moved  them  over  the  bush  as  gently  as  if 
it  had  been  a  baby's  face.  '  Oh,'  she  said,  '  it  has 
blossomed  so  many  times  when  something  beautiful  hap- 
pened !  Somehow,  it  seemed  to  know.  It  blossomed 
when  Lucia  was  married,  and  the  day  your  mother 
came  home  to  live  with  you  children ;  but  I  never 
thought  it  would  be  so  now.  A  day  or  two,  did 
you  say  ;  only  a  day  or  two  more  ? '  And  then  she 
closed  her  eyes  with  such  a  smile,  and  I  heard  her 
saying  softly  to  herself,  — 

" '  There  everlasting  spring  abides, 
And  never-withering  flowers.' 

"  Her  mind  wandered  a  little  all  that  day  and  the 
next,  and  she  never  once  spoke  of  leaving  us,  but  she 
slipped  away  at  night  as  quietly  as  going  to  sleep, 
and  in  the  morning  the  rose  was  in  bloom.  I  told 
grandfather  about  it  afterward,  but  he  didn't  attach 
any  significance  to  it  at  all.  In  fact,  I  think  he  felt 
a  little  mortified,  and  he  said  if  she  had  realized  that 
she  was  on  the  brink  of  eternity  she  wouldn't  have 
been  thinking  about  a  rose." 

She  was  silent  a  minute,  then  added :  "  In  one  way 
I  don't  know  but  grandmother's  prayer  was  answered 
after  all,  for  grandfather  seemed  different  after  her 


AT    THE    OLD    PLACE.  99 

death.  He  has  been  more  considerate  of  us  all,  and 
we — yes,  I  guess  we've  tried  harder  to  be  good  to 
him.  We  couldn't  help  it  when  we  remembered  how 
patient  she  always  was." 

The  chirping  of  the  crickets  seemed  to  grow  fuller 
and  gladder  in  the  summer  stillness,  and  the  notes  of 
the  whippoorwill  came  with  yet  mellower  call.  It 
was  as  if  the  influence  of  a  sweet,  unselfish,  loving 
spirit  filled  the  place,  and  somehow  it  did  not  seem 
to  Esther  Northmore  at  that  moment  a  poor  or  pal- 
try thing  to  have  lived  and  died  one  of  the  common 
throng. 


CHAPTER  V. 

AUNT    KATHARINE    SAXON. 

IN  the  privacy  of  their  room  that  night  Kate  con- 
fided to  Esther  two  resolutions.  The  first  was 
that  she  would  not  again,  during  her  stay  at  her 
grandfather's,  needlessly  expose  her  ignorance  of  any 
point  of  Bible  history :  "  For  if  we're  going  to  get 
mother  into  disgrace,  and  make  him  think  she  never 
taught  us  anything  about  it,  it'll  be  a  pretty  busi- 
ness," she  ended  with  feeling. 

To  this  Esther  gave  cordial  assent,  but  she  was 
not  so  sure  of  Kate's  wisdom  in  the  other  matter; 
for  the  girl,  with  her  usual  penetration,  had  guessed 
that  the  Eastern  relatives  held  a  somewhat  exalted 
opinion  of  the  superiority  of  New  England  to  the 
rest  of  the  United  States,  and  announced  her  intention 
of  correcting  it  to  the  best  of  her  ability.  Esther,  whose 
loyalty  to  her  own  section  was  not  of  a  combative 
sort,  suggested  mildly  that  people's  opinions  about 
things  didn't  alter  them,  and  that  the  grandfather, 
at  his  advanced  age,  should  at  least  be  left  to  the 


AUNT    KATHARINE    SAXON.  IOI 

enjoyment  of  any  prejudices  he  might  have  in  favor 
of  his  native  section. 

But  the  allusion  to  his  age  should  have  been 
omitted.  Kate  shook  her  head  at  this,  and  declared 
that  he  of  all  others  was  the  one  not  to  be  spared. 
Was  it  not  his  pride  and  boast  that  time  had  not 
robbed  him  of  either  mental  or  physical  vigor?  No, 
no ;  she  should  not  hold  herself  debarred  from  sup- 
plying him  with  new  ideas  on  any  subject.  It  was 
only  when  he  stood  on  Bible  ground  that  she  should 
let  him  alone. 

It  was  evident  the  next  morning  that  on  this 
ground  he  did  not  intend  to  let  her  alone,  for  at 
family  prayers  he  read  the  pathetic  story  of  David's 
flight  from  his  unworthy  son,  and  his  eyes  sought  hers 
for  a  moment  with  pointed  meaning  as  he  paused  on 
the  name  of  the  loyal  friend  whose  swift  generosity 
remembered  the  fugitives,  "  hungry  and  weary  and 
thirsty  in  the  wilderness,"  and  who  of  good  right  met 
them  again  with  rejoicing  in  their  hour  of  victory. 

The  quaint  old  story  held  the  girl's  absorbed  at- 
tention to  the  end.  She  wished  it  were  longer,  and 
told  her  grandfather  so  after  breakfast,  adding  that 
the  way  he  read  the  Old  Testament  made  it  more 
interesting  than  common. 

He    received    the    compliment    with    complacence. 


IO2  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  guess  I  do  read  it  better  than 
some  folks.  I  guess  I'm  a  little  like  those  men  in 
the  days  of  Ezra  the  scribe,  who  stood  up  before 
the  people,  and  '  read  in  the  law  of  God  distinctly, 
and  gave  the  sense,  and  caused  them  to  understand.' " 

Kate  privately  wondered  how  many  more  people 
in  the  Bible  her  grandfather  resembled,  but  she  re- 
frained from  suggesting  the  query,  lest  he  should 
claim  her  attention  at  once  for  the  whole  list. 

It  was  while  they  sat  at  table  that  morning  that 
he  said,  looking  at  her  with  the  sudden  lighting  of 
face  which  marks  a  mental  discovery :  "  It's  your 
great-aunt  Katharine  that  you  put  me  in  mind  of.  I 
knew  there  was  somebody.  It  ain't  your  looks  so 
much ;  but  a  way  you  have." 

"  Oh,  grandfather,  how  can  you  ? "  cried  Stella. 
"  Kate,  you  won't  thank  him  much  for  that  when 
you  know  Aunt  Katharine." 

"  She's  the  one  I  was  named  for,  I  suppose,"  said 
Kate.  "  I've  heard  mother  tell  about  her.  Well,  if 
she's  disagreeable,  there  won't  be  any  love  lost  be- 
tween us  on  account  of  the  name.  I  never  did  like 
it  particularly." 

"  Disagreeable !  "  cried  Stella,  "  why,  she's  the 
queerest,  most  cross-grained,  cantankerous  — 

"  Stella !  Stella !  "  said  her  mother,  severely.     "  Why 


AUNT    KATHARINE    SAXON.  1 03 

will  you  prejudice  your  cousins  against  your  poor 
Aunt  Katharine  ?  " 

"  My  poor  Aunt  Katharine  will  do  it  herself  quick 
enough,"  said  Stella.  "  Oh,  yes,"  she  added  with  a 
little  shrug,  as  she  saw  her  mother's  lips  parting 
again,  "my  mother's  going  to  tell  you  that  Aunt 
Katharine  has  had  a  great  deal  in  her  life  to  try 
her,  and  that  she  is  really  a  remarkably  bright  and 
capable  woman.  It's  perfectly  true;  and  several  other 
things  are  true  besides." 

"The  trouble  with  my  sister  Katharine,"  said  Ruel 
Saxon,  setting  down  his  cup  of  tea,  which  he  had 
been  drinking  so  hot  that  every  swallow  was  accom- 
panied by  an  upward  jerk  of  the  head  and  a  facial 
contortion,  "the  trouble  with  Katharine  Saxon  don't 
lay  in  her  nat'ral  faculties.  It  lays  in  a  stiff-necked 
and  perverse  disposition.  When  she  gets  a  notion 
into  her  head  she  won't  change  it  for  anybody,  and 
she's  wiser  in  her  own  conceit  than  '  seven  men  that 
can  render  a  reason.' " 

"  Grandfather  himself  frequently  personates  the 
whole  seven,"  observed  Stella,  with  a  nod  at  her 
cousins.  She  smiled,  as  if  the  memory  of  some  past 
scenes  amused  her,  then  said  soberly :  "  The  fact  of  it 
is,  Aunt  Katharine  is  a  regular  crank.  There's  noth- 
ing in  this  world  that  goes  right  according  to  her 


IO4  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

notion  of  it,  but  she's  particularly  down  on  the  ways 
of  the  men.  She  ivonld  have  a  little  patience  with 
women  —  for  she  thinks  their  faults  are  mostly  due 
to  their  being  so  down-trodden  —  if  they  only  wouldn't 
marry.  I've  heard  her  say  so!  She  never  married 
herself,  you  know,  and  she  has  an  awfully  poor  opin- 
ion of  the  whole  institution." 

Ruel  Saxon  looked  as  if  he  had  a  word  to  offer 
at  this  point  in  regard  to  his  sister's  matrimonial 
opinions,  but  Aunt  Elsie  was  before  him.  "  Now, 
don't  you  think,"  she  said,  looking  gravely  at  Stella, 
and  incidentally  including  him  in  the  passing  glance, 
"  that  we'd  better  let  the  girls  form  their  own  im- 
pressions of  Aunt  Katharine  ?  They  may  like  her  a 
great  deal  better  than  you  do,  Stella." 

"  I'm  sure  I'm  willing,"  said  the  girl,  with  another 
shrug,  and  her  grandfather,  after  wrestling  with  a 
little  more  extremely  hot  tea,  seemed  to  be  willing 
too ;  but  he  suggested  that  the  girls  should  make  an 
early  call  on  their  Aunt  Katharine.  It  would  give 
them  a  chance  of  forming  the  desired  impressions, 
and  besides  she  would  expect  it. 

The  girls  accepted  the  suggestion  promptly.  In- 
deed Kate,  whose  interest  in  her  namesake  had  been 
considerably  whetted  by  what  had  been  said  of  her, 
proposed  that  they  should  go  that  very  morning;  but 


AUNT  KATHARINE  SAXON.  IO5 

to  this  Aunt  Elsie's  judgment  was  again  opposed. 
It  seemed  that  Aunt  Katharine  had  a  special  dislike 
to  being  interrupted  in  her  morning  duties  by  callers, 
and  was  disposed  to  think  slightingly  of  people  who 
hadn't  "work  enough  to  keep  them  at  home  in  the 
fore  part  of  the  day."  In  the  case  of  her  nieces,  who 
must  certainly  be  excused  for  being  at  leisure,  she 
might  waive  the  last  objection,  but  it  was  best  to  be 
on  the  safe  side. 

It  was  settled  that  the  girls,  accompanied  by  their 
grandfather,  should  go  that  afternoon,  and  if  the 
call  had  been  upon  some  distinguished  person  they 
could  not  have  taken  more  pains  with  their  toilets. 
Esther  debated  between  three  gowns,  and  finally 
settled  on  a  soft  gray,  with  plain  white  cuffs  and 
collar,  while  Kate  put  on  a  pretty  lawn  and  the  dash- 
ing Roman  sash  which  had  been  Aunt  Milly's  parting 
gift. 

It  was  less  than  a  half  hour's  walk  across  the 
fields  to  Aunt  Katharine's  house,  but  the  grandfather 
had  decided  to  go  by  the  road  in  state,  and  had 
Dobbin  and  the  two-seated  carriage  at  the  door  in 
good  time.  He  had  taken  a  little  more  pains  than 
usual  with  his  own  appearance,  and  his  daughter-in- 
law  added  the  last  touches  with  careful  hand. 

She  was  not  much  inclined  to  the  giving  of  gratui- 


IO6  WHEAT   AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

tous  advice;  but,  in  the  absence  of  the  young  people 
from  the  room,  she  did  say,  persuasively,  as  she  ad- 
justed the  old  gentleman's  cravat :  "If  I  were  you, 
father,  I'd  try  not  to  get  into  one  of  those  discussions 
to-day  with  Aunt  Katharine.  We  want  the  girls  to 
have  as  pleasant  an  opinion  of  her  as  possible,  and 
you  know  she  always  appears  at  a  disadvantage 
when  she's  arguing  with  you." 

Sly  Aunt  Elsie !  There  were  moments  when  the 
wisdom  of  the  serpent  was  as  nothing  to  hers.  Ruel 
Saxon  twisted  his  neck  for  a  moment  impatiently  in 
his  cravat,  then  replied  meekly :  "  Well,  I  s'pose  it 
does  kind  of  put  her  out  to  have  me  always  get  the 
better  of  her.  Katharine  has  her  good  p'ints  as  well 
as  anybody,  and  I'd  be  glad  to  have  Lucia's  children 
see  'em.  If  she  don't  rile  me  up  too  much  I'll  — 
yes,  I'll  try  to  bear  with  her  this  afternoon.  Solomon 
says  there's  a  time  for  everything :  a  time  to  keep 
silence  and  a  time  to  speak;  and  mebbe  it's  a  time 
to  keep  silence  to-day." 

In  this  accommodating  frame  of  mind  he  started  off 
with  his  granddaughters.  Stella  had  declined  an  in- 
vitation to  accompany  them  —  possibly  at  her  mother's 
suggestion  —  though  the  fact  that  the  way  lay  along 
one  of  her  favorite  drives,  the  old  county  road,  had 
been  something  of  an  inducement  to  go. 


AUNT    KATHARINE    SAXON.  IO/ 

It  was  one  of  those  dear  old  roads,  familiar  in 
every  part  of  New  England,  through  which  the  main 
business  of  the  region,  now  diverted  to  other  high- 
ways, once  took  its  daily  course,  but  which,  as  its 
importance  dwindled,  had  gained  in  every  roadside 
charm.  The  woods,  sweet  with  all  summer  odors, 
had  crept  close  to  its  edge ;  daisies  and  ferns  en- 
croached on  its  borders,  and  its  wavy  line  made 
gracious  curve  for  the  rock  which  had  rolled  from 
the  hill  above  and  lay  beside  it  still,  a  moss-covered 
perch  for  children  and  squirrels.  Here,  the  birds, 
not  startled  too  often  in  their  secret  haunts,  tilted 
on  sprays  of  the  feathery  sumach,  finishing  their  songs 
with  confident  clearness  as  the  traveller  drew  near, 
and  the  swift  brown  lizards  darted  across  the  way 
before  the  very  wheels  of  his  carriage. 

Miss  Katharine  Saxon's  farm  was  one  of  those 
which  still  had  contact  with  the  world  through  this 
deserted  highway,  but  its  comparative  isolation  had 
not  affected  its  well-kept  appearance.  The  house  was 
white,  with  green  blinds  at  the  front  and  sides,  but 
presented  a  red  end  to  the  fields  behind,  after  the 
fashion  of  many  in  that  section.  The  dooryard,  a 
small  rectangle,  was  shut  off  from  the  surrounding 
pastures  by  a  high  picket  fence,  though  there  were 
no  shrubs,  or  even  a  flower-bed,  inside  the  enclosure. 


IO8  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

The  owner  was  not  visible  at  any  of  the  windows  as 
her  guests  walked  up  the  gravel  path,  which  was  too 
narrow  to  admit  of  their  advancing  in  any  but  single 
file,  but  the  brass  knocker  had  scarcely  fallen  before 
she  opened  the  door  in  person. 

Even  Esther  had  no  remembrance  of  having  seen 
her  before,  but  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  her  iden- 
tity. In  feature  she  was  singularly  like  her  brother, 
but  her  small  thin  figure  was  not  trim  and  straight 
like  his.  She  was  so  painfully  bent  as  plainly  to 
need  the  aid  of  the  stout  oak  stick  on  which  she 
leaned,  and  her  hair,  in  striking  contrast  with  his, 
was  snowy  white.  She  greeted  her  nieces  with  as 
little  effusion  as  their  Aunt  Elsie,  but  her  quick 
bright  eyes  betrayed  a  much  keener  interest  as  they 
darted  sharply  from  one  to  the  other. 

"Well,  Ruel,  I  s'pose  you're  feeling  just  as  smart 
as  ever  to-day,  and  just  as  able  to  bless  the  Lord 
that  you  ain't  as  the  rest  of  us  are.  Thank  you, 
my  rheumatism  ain't  a  mite  better  'n  'twas  the  last 
time  you  was  here,  and  my  sight  and  hearing  are 
mebbe  a  little  grain  worse." 

She  delivered  herself  of  this  with  surprising  rapid- 
ity as  she  walked  before  them  into  the  parlor,  look- 
ing back  with  short  quick  glances  at  her  brother. 
He  responded  by  a  rather  discomfited  grunt.  Evi- 


"SHE  OPENED  THE  DOOR  IN  PERSON." 


AUNT    KATHARINE    SAXON.  1 09 

dently  she  had  the  start  of  him.  The  parlor  was 
of  the  primmest  New  England  type,  and  so  dark  that 
for  some  moments  the  girls,  sitting  uncomfortably  on 
straight-backed  chairs  whose  hard  stuffed  seats  seemed 
never  before  to  have  been  pressed  by  a  human  figure, 
could  scarcely  make  out  what  manner  of  place  they 
had  entered.  It  dawned  on  them  by  degrees,  and  if 
anything  had  been  needed  to  enhance  the  charm  of  the 
parlor  at  the  old  homestead,  the  necessary  contrast 
would  certainly  have  been  furnished  here. 

There  was  nothing  to  suggest  that  any  of  the 
ordinary  occupations  of  human  life  had  ever  been 
carried  on  in  this  room.  The  pictures  which  Stella 
had  banished  would  seem  to  have  been  dragged 
from  their  hiding-places  and  hung  on  these  walls, 
and  beside  them  there  was  nothing  of  mural  orna- 
ment except  three  silver  coffin  plates  framed  in  oak 
on  a  ground  of  black.  The  Northmore  girls,  gazing 
in  wonder  at  these  shining  tablets,  could  scarcely 
believe  that  they  were  really  what  they  seemed,  but 
Stella,  to  whom  they  appealed  on  their  return, 
promptly  disabused  them  of  the  doubt.  Most  cer- 
tainly these  sombre  ornaments  had  their  original 
place  on  the  funeral  casket.  It  was  not  uncommon, 
she  said,  to  find  such  relics  displayed  in  old-fashioned 
houses  in  this  region. 


IIO  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

"There  were  some  in  our  house  once,"  she  added, 
"  but  I  persuaded  grandfather  to  let  me  lay  them 
away  in  the  best  bureau  drawers.  He  objected  at 
first,  but  after  I  put  up  my  Madonnas  and  cathe- 
drals he  succumbed.  I  believe  he  considered  the 
place  unfit  to  display  the  names  of  those  who  had 
died  in  the  faith." 

But  this  was  afterward.  At  present  Esther  was 
occupied  with  the  strenuous  effort  to  read  the  names 
thus  honored  of  Aunt  Katharine,  and  Kate  was 
bending  all  her  energies  to  discover  the  points  in 
which  she  herself  resembled  that  lady.  The  latter 
turned  upon  them  now  with  one  of  her  sharp 
glances. 

"  So  you're  Lucia's  girls,"  she  said  with  delibera- 
tion. "Well,  you  ain't  as  good  looking  as  she  was, 
neither  of  you.  But  handsome  is  that  handsome 
does  ;  and  if  you  behave  yourselves,  you'll  do." 

The  girls  were  somewhat  taken  aback  by  this,  but 
Kate  rallied  in  a  moment.  "You  can't  hurt  our 
feelings  by  telling  us  we  aren't  as  good  looking  as 
mother  was,"  she  said  gayly,  "  for  we  know  she  was 
a  regular  beauty.  Father's  told  us  that  over  and 
over." 

"  I'll  warrant  he  thought  so,"  chuckled  her  grand- 
father, "and  he  wasn't  the  only  one,  neither.  Why 


AUNT  KATHARINE  SAXON.  Ill 

all  the  likeliest  young  fellows  in  town  came  courting 
your  mother.  She  didn't  have  to  take  up  with  a 
Western  man  because  she  couldn't  get  anybody 
nearer  home." 

"  Perhaps  it  was  because  she  had  a  chance  to  com- 
pare the  Western  man  with  those  around  here  that 
she  did  take  up  with  him,"  said  Kate,  quickly. 

It  was  a  fair  retort ;  but  the  old  gentleman's  fore- 
head puckered  for  a  moment  as  if  he  were  not  quite 
prepared  for  it.  Before  he  could  say  anything  in 
reply  his  sister  had  changed  the  subject,  by  asking, 
in  her  abrupt  way,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  her  younger 
niece,  "  What  do  you  think  of  this  country  ? " 

It  is  the  stereotyped  question  from  the  old  resident 
to  the  newcomer  in  all  parts  of  the  world.  Perhaps, 
convenient  as  it  is  in  bridging  over  the  awkwardness 
of  first  acquaintance,  it  would  be  oftener  omitted  if 
society  remembered  that  dictum  of  Dr.  Johnson's, 
that  no  one  has  a  right  to  put  you  in  such  a  posi- 
tion that  you  must  either  hurt  him  by  telling  the 
truth,  or  hurt  yourself  by  not  telling  it.  Kate  North- 
more  had  never  faced  the  alternative  under  very  cru- 
cial conditions,  but  whatever  twinge  there  might  be 
she  preferred  on  general  principles  to  resign  to  the 
other  party,  and  she  did  so  promptly  now. 

"Well,  I  can't  say  I'm  very  much  struck  with  the 


112  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

looks  of  it,"  she  said  frankly.  "  It's  different  from 
ours,  you  know  ;  and  these  little  bits  of  fields  are  so 
funny,  all  checkered  off  with  stone  walls.  I  haven't 
got  used  to  them  yet." 

Miss  Saxon  looked  at  her  niece  without  speaking, 
but  the  grandfather  bristled  at  this.  "  Hm ! "  he 
grunted,  "  You  Western  folks  seem  to  think  nothing's 
of  any  account  unless  it's  big.  'Taint  the  size  of 
things,  but  what  you  do  with  'em,  that  counts." 

"Well,  it's  a  wonder  to  me  what  you  can  do  with 
some  of  this  land  of  yours,  it's  so  rough  and  poor," 
said  Kate,  lightly.  "  I  don't  see  how  the  farmers 
manage  to  make  a  living,  scratching  round  among 
the  rocks."  Then,  with  a  good-natured  laugh,  she 
added :  "  Oh,  we  don't  despise  the  littles,  out  our 
way,  as  much  as  you  think ;  but  when  it  comes  to 
wheat  and  corn,  and  things  of  that  sort,  we  do  like 
to  see  a  lot  of  it  growing  all  together.  It  looks  as 
if  there  was  enough  to  go  round,  you  know,  and 
makes  people  feel  sort  of  free  and  easy." 

Perhaps,  in  his  heart,  Ruel  Saxon  doubted  whether 
it  was  good  for  people  to  feel  free  and  easy  in  this 
transient  mortal  state,  but  he  had  no  chance  just 
then  to  discuss  the  moral  advantages  of  large  labor 
and  small  returns,  for  Esther  exclaimed,  with  a 
glance  at  her  sister  which  was  half  reproachful : 


AUNT  KATHARINE  SAXON.  113 

"  But  there  are  so  many  other  things  in  a  country 
besides  the  crops !  For  my  part,  I  think  New  Eng- 
land is  perfectly  beautiful.  I  believe  I'm  in  love  with 
it  all." 

Miss  Katharine  Saxon  turned  her  head  and  looked 
at  the  girl  attentively.  The  mother  must  have  been 
very  pretty  indeed  if  she  had  ever  looked  prettier 
than  Esther  did  at  that  moment.  A  delicate  pink 
had  risen  in  her  cheeks,  and  her  brown  eyes  seemed 
unusually  soft  and  lustrous  in  the  warmth  with 
which  she  had  spoken.  She  had  made  a  lucky  sug- 
gestion, and  her  grandfather  took  his  cue  instantly. 

"We  never  pretended  that  our  strong  p'int  was 
raising  wheat  V  corn  here  in  New  England,"  he  said 
loftily.  "  The  old  Bay  State  can  do  better  than  that. 
She  can  raise  men  ;  men  who  fear  God  and  honor 
their  country,  and  can  guide  her  in  the  hour  of 
need  with  the  spirit  of  wisdom  and  sound  under- 
standing." 

"We've  got  some  of  that  sort,  too,"  said  Kate, 
cutting  in  at  the  first  pause.  "The  only  difference 
is  you  started  on  your  list  a  little  ahead  of  us." 

But  the  remark   was  lost  on   her  grandfather.    He 

was  on  solid  ground  now,  and  he   felt  his  eloquence 

rising.     "  You  talk  about  our  land  being  poor.     Well, 

mebbe   'tis ;    mebbe    we   do    have    to    scratch    round 

i 


114  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBFRRIES. 

among  the  rocks  to  make  a  living,  but  we've  scratched 
lively  enough  to  do  it,  and  support  our  schools  and 
churches,  and  start  yours  into  the  bargain.  We've 
scratched  deep  enough  to  find  the  money  to  send  lots  of 
our  boys  to  college  —  there's  been  a  good  many  of  'em 
right  from  this  district.  There  was  Abner  Sickles  that 
went  to  Harvard  from  the  back  side  of  Rocky  Hill, 
where  they  used  to  say  the  stones  were  so  thick  you 
had  to  sharpen  the  sheep's  nose  to  get  'em  down  to  the 
grass  between  ;  there  was  Baxter  Slocum  —  thirteen 
children  his  father  had  —  there  were  the  Dunham 
boys,  three  out  of  six  in  one  family." 

For  the  last  minute  Miss  Katharine  Saxon  had 
been  moving  uneasily  in  her  chair.  Her  square 
chin,  which  had  been  resting  on  her  clasped  hands 
at  the  top  of  her  cane,  had  come  up,  and  her  eyes 
were  fixed  sharply  on  her  brother. 

"While  you're  about  it,  Ruel,"  she  said,  inter- 
rupting him  in  the  dryest  of  tones,  "  you  might  just 
mention  some  o'  the  girls  that  have  been  sent  to 
college  from  these  old  farms." 

Ruel  Saxon,  reined  up  thus  suddenly  in  the  onward 
charge  of  his  eloquence,  opened  and  closed  his  lips  for  a 
moment  with  a  rather  helpless  expression.  She  waited 
for  him  to  speak,  her  thin  hands  gripping  the  cane, 
and  the  corners  of  her  mouth  twitching  ominously. 


AUNT    KATHARINE    SAXON.  I  15 

"Well,  of  course,  Katharine,"  he  said  testily,  "there 
hain't  been  as  many  girls.  For  that  matter  there 
warn't  the  female  colleges  to  send  'em  to  fifty  years 
ago ;  but  you  know  yourself  there  hain't  been  the 
means  to  send  'em  both,  the  boys  and  the  girls,  and 
if  it  couldn't  be  but  one  — 

He  paused  to  moisten  his  lips,  and  she  took  up  the 
word  with  an  accent  of  intense  bitterness.  "  If  there 
couldn't  be  but  one,  it  must  be  the  boy,  of  course, — 
always  the  boy.  Oh,  I  know  !  Yes,  and  I  know  how 
the  girls  'n'  their  mothers  have  slaved  to  send  'em.  It 
ain't  the  men  that  have  learned  how  to  get  more  out 
of  the  farms ;  it's  the  women  that  have  learned  how  to 
get  along  with  less  in  the  house.  There  was  Abner 
Sickles !  Yes,  there  was ;  and  there  was  his  sister 
Abigail,  too.  I  went  to  school  with  'em  both.  She 
was  enough  sight  smarter  'n  he  was ;  always  could  see 
into  things  quicker,  'n'  handle  'em  better,  but  they  took 
a  notion  to  send  him  to  college,  —  wanted  to  make  a 
minister  of  him,  —  and  she  stopped  going  to  school 
when  she  was  fourteen,  and  did  the  housework  for 
the  family,  —  her  mother  was  always  sickly,  —  and 
then  sat  up  nights,  sewing  straw  and  binding  shoes 
to  earn  money  for  Abner."  She  paused,  with  a  note 
in  her  voice  which  suggested  a  clutch  at  the  throat, 
then  added:  "She  died  when  she  was  twenty.  Went 


Il6  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

crazy  the  last  part  of  the  time,  and  thought  she'd 
committed  the  unpardonable  sin.  It's  my  opinion 
somebody  had  committed  it ;  but  'twarn't  her." 

It  was  the  old  gentleman  who  was  moving  uneasily 
now.  "  It  was  too  bad  about  Abigail,"  he  said,  with 
a  shake  of  the  head.  "  I  remember  her  case,  and  'twas 
one  of  the  strangest  we  ever  had  in  the  church.  I 
went  out  to  see  her  once,  with  two  of  the  other  dea- 
cons, and  we  set  out  the  doctrine  of  the  unpardonable 
sin  clear  and  strong,  and  showed  her  that  if  she  really 
had  committed  it  she  wouldn't  be  feeling  so  bad  about 
it  —  she'd  have  her  conscience  seared  as  with  a  hot 
iron ;  but  she  couldn't  seem  to  lay  hold  of  any  com- 
fort. However,  it  was  plain  that  her  mind  wasn't 
right,  and  I  don't  believe  the  Lord  held  her  respon- 
sible for  her  lack  of  faith." 

The  old  woman  gave  an  impatient  snort.  "  If  he 
didn't  hold  somebody  responsible,  you  needn't  talk 
to  me  about  justice,"  she  said  fiercely.  "  I  don't  know 
how  you  and  the  other  deacons  figured  it  out,  Ruel, 
but  if  it  ain't  the  unpardonable  sin  for  folks  to  act 
like  fools,  when  the  Lord  has  given  'em  eyes  to  see 
with,  and  sense  enough  to  put  two  and  two  together, 
I  don't  know  what  'tis.  I  tell  you  the  whole  trouble 
grew  out  of  that  notion  that  a  boy  must  be  sent  away 
to  school  just  because  he  was  a  boy,  and  a  girl  must 


AUNT   KATHARINE    SAXON. 

be  kept  at  home  just  because  she  was  a  girl.  If  the 
Almighty  ever  meant  to  have  things  go  that  way  why 
didn't  He  give  the  men  the  biggest  brains,  and  put 
the  strongest  backs  V  arms  on  the  women  ?  Heaven 
knows  they've  needed  'em." 

A  good  memory  was  undoubtedly  one  of  Ruel 
Saxon's  strong  points,  but  all  recollection  of  the  gentle 
warning  his  daughter-in-law  had  given  him  was  put 
utterly  to  flight  by  this  speech  of  his  sister's.  He 
stiffened  himself  in  his  chair,  and  his  nostrils  dilated 
(to  use  a  pet  figure  of  his  own)  "  like  a  war-horse 
smelling  the  battle  from  afar." 

"  Katharine,"  he  said,  "  you  darken  counsel  by  words 
without  knowledge.  I  don't  pretend,  and  nobody  ever 
pretended,  that  Abigail  Sickles  or'  to  have  worked 
herself  to  death  to  keep  Abner  in  college.  Her  folks 
or'  to  have  seen  it  in  time,  and  stopped  her.  But  you 
take  too  much  upon  yourself  when  you  want  to  change 
things  round  from  the  way  the  Lord  made  'em.  It's 
the  men  that  have  got  to  be  at  the  head  of  things  in 
church  and  state  ;  it's  the  men  that  have  got  to  go 
out  into  the  world  and  earn  the  living  for  the  women 
and  children ;  and  it's  because  they've  needed  the  edu- 
cation more,  and  had  more  call  to  use  it,  that  the  boys 
have  been  sent  to  college  instid  of  the  girls.  There's 
reason  in  all  things." 


Il8  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

She  broke  in  upon  him  with  a  short,  scornful  laugh. 
"  There's  a  terrible  good  reason  sometimes,  Ruel,  why 
the  women  have  to  earn  the  living  for  themselves,  'n' 
the  children  too;  and  that's  to  keep  themselves  from 
starving.  Who  earned  the  living  for  Nancy's  chil- 
dren when  she  brought  'em  all  home  to  the  old  house 
forty  years  ago  ?  Well,  I  guess  she  'n'  I  earned  most 
of  it." 

She  lifted  her  shoulders  with  an  effort,  and  added : 
"  Shouldn't  be  quite  so  near  doubled  together  now  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  bending  over  that  spinning-wheel  day 
in  'n'  day  out,  working  to  get  food  'n'  clothes  for  those 
children,  the  six  of  'em  that  John  Proctor  ran  away  'n' 
left.  You  talk  about  men  going  out  in  the  world  to 
earn  the  living.  It  would  be  a  good  thing  for  the 
women  to  go  into  the  world  too,  sometimes.  Mebbe 
they  wouldn't  be  quite  so  helpless  then  when  they're 
left  to  shift  for  themselves." 

The  old  man  winced.  "You  had  an  awful  hard  time, 
Katharine,  you  'n'  Nancy.  John  Proctor  didn't  do  his 
duty  by  his  family,"  he  said ;  and  then  he  faced  her 
with  a  fresh  impatience.  "  But  that  ain't  the  way  the 
men  gener'ly  do,  is  it?  To  hear  you  talk  a  body'd 
think  the  women  had  just  naturally  got  to  plan  for  that 
sort  of  thing.  You  want  'em  to  go  out  into  the  world, 
like  the  men,  and  make  a  business  of  it.  I'd  like  to 


AUNT    KATHARINE    SAXON.  IIQ 

know  who'd  take  care  of  the  home  'n'  the  children  if 
they  did.  Home  is  the  place  for  women.  The  Apostle 
Paul  —  " 

There  was  a  distinct  flash  of  anger  now  in  the  small, 
bright  eyes  of  Miss  Katharine  Saxon.  "  Don't  tell  me 
what  Paul  said,"  she  exclaimed.  "I  tell  you  that  notion 
o'  his,  that  there  was  nothing  a  woman  had  a  right  to 
do  but  marry,  'n'  have  children,  'n'  tend  the  house,  is  at 
the  bottom  of  half  the  foolishness  there  is  in  the  world 
to-day.  Women  have  just  as  good  a  right  to  pick  'n' 
choose  what  they  shall  do  as  the  men  have.  And  some 
of  'em  had  a  good  deal  better  do  something  else  than 
marry  the  men  that  want  'em.  I  tell  you  Paul  didn't 
know  it  all.  'Cording  to  his  own  account  he  had  to  be 
struck  by  lightning  before  he  could  see  some  things, 
and  if  another  streak  had  come  his  way  mebbe  he'd 
caught  sight  of  a  few  more  that  were  worth  looking  at." 

Ruel  Saxon  gazed  at  his  sister  for  a  minute  speech- 
less. Then  he  said  solemnly,  "Katharine,  there  is  such 
a  thing  as  blasphemy,  and  I'd  be  a  little  careful  if  I 
was  you  how  I  talked  about  the  Lord's  dealings  with 
his  saints." 

He  glanced  at  his  granddaughters  as  he  said  it,  as  if 
to  suggest  that  their  morals,  if  not  his  own,  might  be 
impaired  by  such  language. 

"  Laws,  Ruel,"  she  said  briskly,  "  I'd  somehow  got 


I2O  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

it  into  my  head  that  that  thing  happened  to  him  on  the 
way  to  Damascus,  and  I  didn't  know  as  you  or  anybody 
else  called  Saul  of  Tarsus  a  saint." 

She  had  him  at  a  moment's  disadvantage,  and  the 
thin,  high,  mocking  laugh  with  which  she  ended  put 
the  finishing  touch  to  his  irritation. 

"  As  the  crackling  of  thorns  under  a  pot,  so  is  the 
laughter  of  a  fool,"  he  said,  with  slow  emphasis. 

It  should  be  observed  in  passing  that  Deacon  Saxon's 
use  of  the  name  which  he  had  just  bestowed  by  implica- 
tion on  his  sister  was,  like  the  text  itself,  Solomonic. 
The  person  lacking,  not  in  knowledge,  but  in  moral 
sense,  was  the  one  whom  the  wise  man  called  a  fool, 
and  there  were  moments  when  Katharine  Saxon  ap- 
peared to  her  brother  to  be  so  wanting  in  this  respect 
as  to  come  fairly  under  the  title.  It  was  not  the  first 
time  that  his  frankness  had  led  him  to  bestow  it  on  her. 

"  Hey  ?  "  she  said,  leaning  forward  suddenly,  with 
her  hand  curled  about  her  ear. 

That  she  had  not  caught  the  words  was  by  no  means 
certain.  It  suited  her  humor  sometimes  to  offset  his 
boastfulness  as  to  his  good  hearing  with  a  certain  pa- 
rade of  her  own  slight  deafness,  and  the  occasions  for 
making  him  repeat  himself  were  often  cunningly  chosen. 
For  once  he  did  not  do  it.  Perhaps,  a  second  time,  he 
remembered  the  presence  of  his  granddaughters. 


AUNT  KATHARINE  SAXON.  121 

As  for  the  girls  themselves,  they  caught  their  breath, 
in  the  silence  that  followed,  with  something  like  a  gasp. 
It  is  safe  to  say  that  they  had  never  been  present 
before  at  such  an  interview  between  relatives.  Kate 
would  not  have  minded  a  renewal  of  hostilities,  but 
Esther,  with  better  grace,  seized  the  chance  to  effect 
a  truce  by  turning  the  conversation  into  a  more 
peaceful  channel. 

"Aunt  Katharine,"  she  said  eagerly,  "you  spoke  of 
the  spinning  you  used  to  do.  Have  you  the  old  wheel 
now  ?  I've  heard  mother  tell  what  a  wonderful  spinner 
you  were,  and  I  should  so  like  to  see  the  very  wheel 
you  used." 

The  old  woman  took  her  hand  from  her  ear  and 
turned  toward  the  girl.  "  No,"  she  said,  "  I  hain't  got 
the  old  wheel  now ;  one  of  Nancy's  girls  wanted  it,  and 
I  let  her  carry  it  off.  'Twasn't  any  account ;  pretty 
near  as  much  wore  out  as  I  was  when  it  stopped 
running." 

Evidently  she  felt  that  her  passage-at-arms  with  her 
brother  was  ended.  The  sharpness  of  her  expression 
relaxed,  and  she  rose  from  her  place  with  her  ordinary 
manner.  "  I  can  show  you  a  piece  of  linen  your 
mother  wove,  if  you  want  to  see  it.  She'd  have  made 
a  good  spinner  herself  if  she'd  stuck  to  it,  but  I  s'pose 
she  forgot  all  about  it  long  ago.  Well,  there's  plenty 


122  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

other  ways  for  women  to  use  their  time  nowadays, 
and  I'm  glad  of  it." 

The  rest  of  the  call  ran  smoothly.  Miss  Saxon  could 
be  even  gracious  when  she  was  so  disposed,  and  she 
treated  her  guests  to  a  bottle  of  raspberry  vinegar, 
which,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  had  brewed  it  herself, 
was  not  in  the  least  too  sharp,  with  fruit  cake  which 
time  had  brought  to  the  most  perfect  mellowness.  Her 
nieces  would  have  left  her  house  imagining  that  the 
"  queerness,"  of  which  she  had  given  such  ample  proof, 
was  confined  to  the  one  subject  which  she  had  dis- 
cussed with  her  brother,  had  it  not  been  for  a  little 
episode  at  the  very  end  of  the  call,  and  for  this,  as  it 
happened,  the  old  gentleman  was  again  responsible. 

"  How  are  you  getting  along  with  your  garden, 
Katharine  ? "  he  asked.  "  I  was  thinking  mebbe  I  or'  to 
send  Tom  down  here  to  do  a  little  weeding  for  you." 

A  peculiar  smile  gleamed  suddenly  in  the  eyes  of  his 
sister.  "Thank  ye,  Ruel,  I've  got  all  the  help  I  need 
jest  now,"  she  said.  "Come  out'n'  take  a  look  at  my 
garden." 

She  led  the  way  to  the  rear  of  the  house,  and 
stepped  before  them  into  the  trim  little  garden.  It 
was  of  the  old-fashioned  sort,  with  vegetables  growing 
in  thrifty  rows,  and  bunches  of  such  flowers  as  phlox, 
sweet  william,  and  bachelor's  buttons  standing  at  the 


AUNT    KATHARINE    SAXON.  123 

corners  of  the  walks.  It  would  have  seemed  a  model 
of  conventional  primness,  but  for  a  curious  figure 
seated  on  a  three-legged  stool,  puffing  tobacco  smoke 
from  a  long  Dutch  pipe  in  among  the  branches  of  a 
rose-bush. 

He  might  have  been  upwards  of  sixty ;  a  dapper 
little  man  with  a  shining  face,  and  a  round  head 
covered  as  to  its  top  by  an  embroidered  cap  adorned 
with  a  crimson  tassel.  His  waistcoat  was  of  gay  old- 
fashioned  silk,  across  which  was  strung  a  huge  gold 
chain,  and  a  flaming  topaz  pin  adorned  the  front  of  his 
calico  shirt.  At  sight  of  the  company  issuing  from  the 
house  he  started  from  his  seat  and  trotted  up  the  walk 
to  meet  them,  his  hand  extended  and  his  face  expres- 
sive of  the  most  beaming  cordiality. 

Ruel  Saxon,  who  was  following  his  sister  with  a 
meekness  of  deportment  which  had  sat  uneasily  upon 
him  ever  since  the  close  of  their  discussion,  started  as 
his  eye  fell  on  this  person,  and  threw  up  his  head  with 
a  movement  of  surprise  and  irritation.  "  Good  day, 
Solomon,"  he  said  stiffly,  as  they  came  together,  Miss 
Saxon  having  stepped  aside  to  give  free  course  for  the 
meeting. 

"  Why,  how  d'y'  do,  Deacon,  how  d'y'  do  ?  "  exclaimed 
the  other,  seizing  the  old  gentleman's  hand,  which,  to 
tell  the  truth,  had  not  been  offered  him,  and  shaking 


124  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

it  furiously.  "  It's  been  a  terrible  long  time  since 
you  and  I  met.  I  —  I  was  thinkin'  the  other  day 
I  or'  to  come  round  and  see  how  you  was  gittin' 
along." 

The  deacon  did  not  look  overjoyed  at  the  mention 
of  the  intended  honor.  "  How  long  has  Solomon 
been  here  ? "  he  asked  rather  curtly,  turning  to  his 
sister. 

"  Two  weeks  to-morrow,"  she  replied,  with  equal 
curtness.  Then,  turning  to  the  little  man,  and  from 
him  to  the  girls,  she  said  with  marked  politeness,  "  Mr. 
Ridgeway,  these  are  my  nieces,  Lucia  Saxon's  children. 
I  guess  you  remember  her." 

The  little  man  pulled  the  cap  from  his  head,  reveal- 
ing a  crown  as  bald  as  a  baby's,  and  bowed  himself  up 
and  down  with  the  fervor  of  an  Oriental.  "  Lucia 
Saxon  ?  What,  her  that  married  the  doctor  and  went 
out  West  ?  Why,  sartin,  sartin.  She  was  one  of  the 
nicest  gals  I  ever  see,  and  the  prettiest  spoken.  I  —  I 
guess  your  mother  must  'av'  told  you  about  me,"  he 
added  eagerly.  "  I  took  her  home  from  spellin'  school 
once.  She  had  spelled  down  everybody  but  me  ;  but  I 
was  older 'n  she  was,  you  know,  a  good  deal  older." 
The  delight  of  the  remembrance  seemed  to  overcome 
him,  and  he  hopped  first  on  one  foot,  then  on  the  other, 
like  an  excited  child. 


AUNT   KATHARINE    SAXON.  125 

Ruel  Saxon's  face  worked  curiously  while  this  per- 
formance lasted.  "  I  don't  see  but  what  your  garden 
truck  is  getting  on  all  right,"  he  said  in  the  dryest  of 
tones,  "  and  I  guess  the  girls  'n'  I'd  better  be  going." 

He  turned,  making  his  way  past  the  others,  regard- 
less of  the  fact  that  his  footprints  were  left  in  the 
onion-bed  which  bordered  the  walk,  and  headed  the 
line  again  toward  the  house. 

"  I  shall  write  to  mother  that  we  have  seen  you," 
said  Esther,  smiling  back  at  the  little  man,  who  still 
stood  bowing  with  his  cap  in  his  hands,  and  Kate 
gave  him  a  friendly  nod,  though  her  mouth  was 
twitching  with  amusement. 

Aunt  Katharine  said  good-by  to  them  at  the  front 
door.  "  If  you  ever  feel  like  seeing  the  old  woman 
again,  come  down,"  she  said  to  the  girls.  "  'Tain't 
so  very  far  across  the  fields,  and  you  can  follow  the 
cow-path."  Then,  without  waiting  to  see  them  go, 
she  closed  the  door. 

"  Grandfather,"  Kate  burst  out  when  they  were 
fairly  off,  "who  in  the  world  is  that  man,  and  how 
does  he  come  to  be  at  Aunt  Katharine's  ? " 

"That  man,"  he  repeated,  deepening  his  tone  with 
an  accent  of  disgust,  "  is  a  poor  half-witted  cretur 
that  belongs  at  the  poorhouse.  He  stays  there  most 
of  the  time,  but  now  'n'  then  he  gets  a  restless  spell 


126  WHEAT   AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

and  they  let  him  out.  Then  he  always  comes  round 
to  your  Aunt  Katharine's,  and  she  takes  him  in." 

"  Well,  he's  the  queerest  acting  man  I  ever  came 
across,"  said  Kate,  "and  how  he  was  dressed  out, 
with  his  fine  flowered  vest  and  his  jewellery !  " 

"  '  Jewellery ! ' '  grunted  her  grandfather.  "  He 
didn't  have  on  any  compared  with  what  he  has  some- 
times. Why,  when  he  really  dresses  up,  that  cretur 
covers  himself  all  over  with  it." 

The  girls  looked  so  astonished  that  he  apparently 
felt  it  incumbent  on  him  to  attempt  some  explana- 
tion of  the  man.  "The  fact  is,"  he  said,  "Solomon 
Ridgeway  is  as  crazy  as  a  loon  on  one  p'int.  He 
thinks  he's  rich,  though  for  aught  I  know  he's  got 
as  much  sense  about  other  things  as  he  ever  had. 
He  thinks  he's  terrible  rich,  and  that  the  best  way 
to  keep  his  property,  as  he  calls  it,  is  in  gold  and 
jewels.  He's  got  a  trunkful  of  it  —  wo'thless  stuff, 
of  course  —  that  he  carries  with  him  everywhere.  I 
s'pose  it's  stowed  away  somewhere  at  your  Aunt 
Katharine's  now." 

Kate  really  seemed  past  speaking  for  a  moment,  and 
Esther  exclaimed  in  a  tone  of  utter  bewilderment, 
"  Well,  I  should  have  thought  Aunt  Katharine  was  the 
last  person  in  the  world  who  would  want  such  a  man 
at  her  house.  What  makes  her  do  it  ? " 


AUNT    KATHARINE    SAXON. 

"  The  Lord  only  knows,"  said  the  old  gentleman 
solemnly.  And  then  he -jerked  the  reins  and  urged 
Dobbin  on  his  way  in  a  tone  of  uncommon  asperity. 

The  fact  was,  the  question  had  a  special  irritation  for 
him.  That  his  sister,  who  flouted  wise  men  and 
scorned  the  opinions  of  those  having  authority,  should 
bear  with  the  vagaries  of  a  being  like  Solomon  Ridgeway 
was  a  thing  that  passed  his  understanding.  With  the 
man  himself  he  might  have  had  some  patience,  though 
his  form  of  mania  was  peculiarly  exasperating  to  his 
own  hard  common  sense,  and  somehow  he  could  not  help 
resenting  it  that  "  Solomon,"  of  all  names,  should  have 
lighted  on  so  foolish  a  creature ;  but  that,  such  as  he 
was,  he  should  be  the  object  of  Katharine  Saxon's 
pointed  and  continuous  favor  was  trying  beyond 
measure  to  her  brother.  He  lapsed  into  a  silence 
quite  unusual  with  him,  and  the  girls  did  not  disturb  it 
again  on  the  way  home. 

They  were  longing  to  talk  the  visit  over  with 
Stella,  but  she  was  away  when  they  reached  the  house, 
and  Aunt  Elsie  asked  no  questions  beyond  an  inquiry 
for  Aunt  Katharine's  health.  It  was  at  supper  that 
the  subject  found  its  way  into  the  family  talk,  and  then 
Stella,  who  had  just  come  in,  opened  it. 

"  Well,  I  hope  you  enjoyed  your  call  on  Aunt 
Katharine,"  she  said,  smiling  at  her  cousins. 


128  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

"Of  course  we  did,"  said  Kate,  promptly.  "You 
didn't  begin  to  tell  us  how  interesting  she  is." 

"Oh,  but  you  should  have  been  there  on  a  day 
when  she  and  grandfather  discussed  things,"  said 
Stella.  "That's  the  time  when  she  really  shows  her 
quality."  She  sent  a  demure  glance  at  the  old  gentle- 
man as  she  spoke.  How  she  had  become  possessed  of 
his  intention  to  refrain  from  controversy  is  not  certain, 
but  somehow  she  had  it. 

He  glanced  with  obvious  embarrassment  at  his  grand- 
daughters. Then  he  set  down  his  cup  of  tea,  and 
faced  his  daughter-in-law.  "  Elsie,"  he  said,  in  a  tone 
whose  humility  was  really  touching,  "  I  meant  to  stand 
by  what  I  said  to  you.  I  certainly  did ;  but  I  couldn't 
do  it."  He  cleared  his  throat  and  his  tone  grew  firmer. 
"  I  couldn't  do  it,  and  I  don't  know  as  I  shall  be  held 
responsible  for  it,  either.  The  Bible  says,  '  As  much  as 
lieth  in  you,  live  peaceably  with  all  men,'  —  and  I 
s'pose  that  means  women  too,  —  but  it  don't  lie  in 
me,  and  it  never  will,  to  keep  my  mouth  shut  while 
folks  are  advancing  such  notions  as  Katharine  did 
this  afternoon.  I  did  contend  with  her ;  I  certainly 
did." 

The  Northmore  girls  could  not  keep  straight  faces, 
and  Stella  broke  into  a  delighted  giggle.  "  I'm  sure 
'twas  your  duty,  grandpa,  and  I'm  glad  you  did  it," 


AUNT    KATHARINE    SAXON.  I2Q 

she  said.  "  What  was  it  this  time ;  woman's  rights,  or 
the  folly  of  getting  married,  or  what? " 

She  glanced  at  her  cousins  as  she  asked  the  question, 
and  Esther  spoke  first.  "  It  was  education  partly,  and 
the  question  whether  women  ought  not  to  be  as  free  as 
men  to  choose  what  they  shall  do.  I  must  say  that  for 
my  part  I  thought  Aunt  Katharine  made  some  real 
good  points,  though  of  course  she  needn't  have  been 
quite  so  bitter." 

"  It  was  my  speaking  about  Abner  Sickles  that 
stirred  her  up  to  begin  with,"  said  the  old  gentleman, 
still  addressing  himself  in  half-apologetic  tone  to  Aunt 
Elsie.  "  That  put  her  in  mind  of  his  sister  Abigail, 
and  how  she  worked  herself  to  death  helping  him 
through  college." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  helping  Abner  was  the  great- 
est comfort  the  poor  girl  had,"  observed  Aunt  Elsie. 

The  unemphatic  way  in  which  she  sometimes  made 
important  suggestions  was  one  of  Aunt  Elsie's  peculiar- 
ities. No  one  spoke  for  a  minute,  and  she  turned  the 
conversation  away  from  Aunt  Katharine  by  suddenly 
asking  a  question  on  a  wholly  different  subject. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

AUNT   KATHARINE CONTINUED. 

AFTER  supper  that  evening,  as  Ruel  Saxon  sat 
in  his  room  in  the  twilight,  Esther  came  softly 
in  and  sat  down  beside  him. 

"  Grandfather,"  she  said,  "  what  made  Aunt  Katha- 
rine so  bitter  against  the  men  ? " 

She  had  been  turning  the  question  wonderingly  in 
her  thoughts  ever  since  the  interview  of  the  after- 
noon. There  was  something  in  the  lonely  old  woman, 
crabbed  of  manner  and  sharp  of  tongue  as  she  was, 
which  had  appealed  to  her  strongly.  That  she  was 
a  unique  personality,  unlike  any  one  she  had  seen 
before,  was  no  doubt  a  part  of  it,  for  Esther  loved 
the  striking  and  picturesque ;  but  there  was  more 
than  this.  She,  too,  had  felt  some  touch  of  revolt 
against  the  limitations  with  which  custom  had  hedged 
the  ordinary  life  of  woman,  and  Aunt  Katharine's 
fierce,  uncaring  challenge  of  it  all  had  not  been 
wholly  unpleasing  to  her. 

"  What  made  Katharine  so  bitter  against  the  men  ? " 

130 


AUNT    KATHARINE    SAXON.  131 

repeated  her  grandfather.  He  had  started  at  the 
question,  as  one  does  sometimes  when  called  upon 
suddenly  to  account  for  a  familiar  fact  which  everyday 
acquaintance  has  robbed  of  all  its  wonder.  "  Well, 
that's  a  long  story,  and  I  don't  s'pose  anybody  but 
Katharine  herself  could  tell  the  whole  of  it ;  but  there 
were  some  things  all  of  us  knew,  and  she  did  have 
her  grievances  —  there's  no  doubt  but  what  she  had 
her  grievances." 

He  jerked  off  his  spectacles,  through  which  he  had 
been  trying  to  read  a  chapter  of  Proverbs,  settled 
himself  in  his  chair,  dropped  his  chin  in  his  hand, 
and  began  :  — 

"  It  started  just  about  the  time  that  Nancy  came 
home  with  her  children ;  Nancy  was  our  sister,  you 
know.  There  were  three  of  us :  Nancy  and  Katha- 
rine and  me.  Katharine  was  the  youngest,  and  she 
was  going  to  be  married  that  spring  to  Levi  Dodge. 
He  was  a  likely  young  fellow,  as  everybody  thought, 
and  they'd  been  keeping  company  for  upward  of 
a  year.  But  when  Nancy  came  home  it  changed 
everything.  There  were  those  six  children  to  be 
done  for,  and  Nancy  herself  all  wore  out  with  work 
'n'  worry,  and  your  grandmother  —  for  I  was  married 
then,  you  know  —  had  her  hands  more  'n  full  with 
the  housework  and  her  own  children,  and  it  looked 


132  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

to  Katharine  as  if  she'd  or'  to  put  off  getting  married 
a  while  and  help  things  along  here  at  home." 

"We  didn't  ask  her  to,  and  we  didn't  so  much  as 
know  she  was  thinking  of  it,  till  she'd  got  her  mind 
all  made  up ;  but  I  tell  you  we  were  awful  glad,  and 
I  never  shall  forget  how  Nancy  and  your  grand- 
mother cried  and  hugged  her,  when  she  told  'em  what 
she  was  going  to  do,  right  here  in  this  room  where 
you  V  I  be  to-night." 

He  paused,  and  it  seemed  to  Esther  as  if  the 
shadows  in  the  dusky  room  took  momentary  shape 
of  those  three  women,  young,  loving,  and  in  trouble 
together,  who  had  met  there  so  long  ago.  Perhaps 
the  old  man  felt  their  presence  too,  for  there  was  a 
peculiar  softness  in  his  voice  as  he  went  on  :  — 

"We  wouldn't  'a'  let  her  do  it,  if  we'd  known 
how  things  were  coming  out,  but  you  see  we  thought 
Nancy 'd  be  in  a  home  of  her  own  again  inside  a 
year,  and  then  the  way'd  be  open  for  Katharine  'n' 
Levi,  and  of  course  we  thought  he'd  be  reasonable 
about  it.  But  bless  your  heart,  when  she  came  to 
talk  it  over  with  him  he  wouldn't  give  in  an  inch. 
He  said  she'd  giv'  her  promise  to  him,  and  she 
couldn't  go  back  on  it ;  he  had  more  claim  on  her 
than  John  Proctor's  family  had.  Well,  of  course,  I 
don't  know  what  passed  between  'em,  —  Katharine 


AUNT    KATHARINE    SAXON.  133 

never  talked  it  over  much,  —  but  she  was  always  high 
strung,  and  I  guess  she  gave  it  to  him  pretty  straight 
that  if  he  couldn't  wait  for  her  a  little  while  under 
such  circumstances  he  needn't  count  on  having  her 
at  all.  Anyhow,  the  upshot  of  it  was  he  went  away 
mad,  and  we  were  dreadful  sorry,  but  we  thought 
he'd  get  over  it  in  a  day  or  two.  He  didn't,  though. 
In  less  'n  a  week  he  was  courting  Sally  Fry,  and  they 
two  were  married  on  the  very  day  that  was  set  for 
Katharine's  wedding." 

"  How  perfectly  abominable ! "  burst  out  Esther. 
"  I  don't  wonder  she  despises  the  men  if  that's  the 
way  she  was  treated." 

"  She  needn't  despise  'em  all,  need  she  ? "  said  her 
grandfather,  sharply.  "There  have  been  men  that 
could  wait  as  long  as  any  woman.  There  was  Jacob, 
for  instance.  He  waited  seven  years  for  Rachel, 
working  for  a  hard  man  all  the  time,  and  the  Bible 
says  they  seemed  like  only  a  few  days  to  him  for  the 
love  he  bore  her.  And  then  he  worked  for  her 
seven  years  more." 

Esther  was  silent.  There  was  no  answer  to  this 
case  of  Jacob,  dear  old  Jacob,  a  prince  indeed,  with 
all  his  meanness,  since  he  could  love  like  that ! 

"  Do  you  suppose  Aunt  Katharine  really  cared  for 
that  man?"  she  asked  after  a  moment. 


134  WHEAT   AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

"  I  guess  most  likely  she  did,"  said  her  grand- 
father, nodding  his  head  slowly.  "  She  wasn't  the 
kind  to  say  she'd  marry  a  man  unless  she  loved  him. 
But  she  never  made  a  sound  after  he  left  her.  She 
held  her  head  higher  than  ever,  and  the  way  she 
worked!  You'd  have  thought  she  had  the  strength 
of  ten  women  in  her." 

He  drew  his  hand  reflectively  across  his  chin  for 
a  moment,  then  added :  "  But  somehow  I  never 
thought  'twas  that  affair  with  Levi  that  soured  your 
Aunt  Katharine  as  much  as  it  was  the  way  John 
Proctor  acted.  It  was  strange  about  Proctor.  You 
see,  in  those  days  they  could  put  a  man  in  prison  for 
debt,  and  he  had  got  in  debt  —  not  so  very  deep,  only 
a  matter  of  three  or  four  hundred  dollars ;  but  the 
man  he  owed  it  to  was  threatening  to  have  the  law 
of  him  if  he  didn't  pay,  and  there  warn't  any  way 
John  could  turn  to  get  that  money.  There  was  noth- 
ing he  could  do  but  get  out  of  the  country,  and  I'm 
free  to  confess  now  that  I  helped  him  go. 

"  You  see,  we  thought  if  he  could  once  get  into 
Canada,  and  work  at  his  trade  —  he  was  a  first-rate 
carpenter  —  he  could  pay  off  that  money  in  a  little 
while,  and  I  agreed  to  do  what  I  could  for  his  family 
while  he  was  gone.  We  went  over  everything  to- 
gether, and  he  talked  as  fair  as  a  man  could,  and 


AUNT    KATHARINE    SAXON.  135 

then  I  drove  with  him  one  day  'n'  night,  and  the 
relatives  up  New  Hampshire  way  gave  him  a  lift 
when  he  got  there,  and  between  us  all  he  was  over 
the  border  before  folks  round  here  knew  he  was 
gone.  I  thought  then  that  I  was  doing  my  duty,  for 
it  was  an  unjust  law,  and  they  did  away  with  it 
pretty  soon  after  that ;  but  looking  back  now,  and  see- 
ing how  things  turned  out,  I  sometimes  wish  I'd  let 
John  Proctor  stay  here,  and  take  what  came  of  it." 

"  Why,  didn't  he  pay  that  money,  after  all  ? "  asked 
Esther,  as  her  grandfather  paused. 

"Pay  it!"  he  repeated.  "Not  a  cent  of  it;  and 
what's  more  we  never  saw  hide  or  hair  of  him  in 
this  country  again.  For  a  while  he  wrote  to  his 
wife,  and  now  'n'  then  sent  her  some  money,  but  it 
got  longer  between  times,  and  by'm  by  the  letters 
stopped  for  good,  though  we  heard  of  him  now  'n' 
then,  and  knew  he  was  alive  and  earning  a  good 
living.  I  never  could  figure  it  out  why  he  acted  that 
way,  for  Nancy  was  a  good  wife,  and  up  to  the 
time  he  went  away  John  seemed  to  think  as  much  of 
his  family  as  other  men.  There  was  such  a  thing  in 
Bible  times  as  folks  being  possessed  with  the  devil," 
he  added  solemnly,  "  and  I  have  my  suspicions  that 
that  was  what  ailed  John  Proctor." 

He   paused  when  he  had  made  this  not  wholly  un- 


136  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

kind  suggestion,  then  went  on  :  "  It  was  terrible 
hard  for  all  of  us,  but  somehow  it  seemed  as  if  it 
worked  on  Katharine  more  'n  anybody  else.  She 
hated  the  very  name  of  John  Proctor,  but  she  took 
up  the  cudgels  for  his  wife  'n'  children,  and  I  always 
thought  'twas  slaving  for  them,  and  seeing  all  they 
went  through  with,  that  set  her  so  against  the  men. 
Mebbe  she  might  have  got  over  it  some,  when  the 
children  grew  older,  and  times  eased  up  a  little,  but 
then  came  that  trouble  to  Ruth,  the  oldest  of  Nancy's 
girls,  and  the  one  Katharine  thought  the  most  of. 

"  We  thought  Ruth  had  made  a  good  match,  though 
the  man  was  consider'ble  older  'n  she  was,  —  her 
mother  hurried  it  on  a  little  herself,  for  of  course 
she  was  anxious  to  get  the  girls  into  homes  of  their 
own,  —  but  he  never  was  good  to  her  after  they  were 
married.  He  broke  her  down  with  hard  work,  and 
holding  her  in,  and  the  poor  little  thing  only  lived  a 
year  or  two.  After  that  if  anybody  said  marriage  to 
Katharine  it  was  like  tinder  in  dry  leaves.  She  took  to 
studying  about  woman's  rights  and  all  that,  till  she  got 
to  be  as  —  well,  as  you  saw  her  this  afternoon." 

"  Poor  Aunt  Katharine  ! "  said  Esther,  softly.  That 
she  had  suffered  wrong  might  surely  bespeak  in  a 
generous  mind  some  excuse  for  her  bitterness,  but 
that,  after  all,  it  was  not  her  own  wrongs,  but  those  of 


AUNT    KATHARINE    SAXON  137 

others  which  had  burned  that  bitterness  into  her  soul, 
made  it  seem  even  noble  to  the  girl  who  had  heard 
her  story. 

"Yes,  it  was  too  bad.  I've  always  been  sorry  for 
Katharine,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  and  then  he  added, 
with  an  asperity  he  could  not  quite  repress:  "but 
the  trouble  is  she  got  into  the  way  of  looking  all 
the  time  at  the  worst  side  of  things,  and  by'm  by  it 
'peared  to  her  as  if  that  side  reached  all  the  way 
round.  She  talks  about  folks  having  sense  enough 
to  put  two  'n'  two  together,  but  I  notice  she  always 
picks  out  the  partic'ler  two  she  wants  when  she 
adds  things  up." 

A  light  step  crossed  the  threshold  at  that  moment, 
and  Stella  Saxon's  graceful  figure  appeared  behind 
her  grandfather's  chair.  "  Haven't  you  had  enough 
of  Aunt  Katharine  for  one  day,  Esther  ?  "  she 
demanded.  "  Leave  grandfather  to  think  up  some 
new  arguments  for  the  next  time  he  goes  to  see 
her,  and  come  with  me.  I  want  you  to  see  what 
a  picture  it  is  from  the  back  of  our  old  barn  when 
the  shadows  creep  over  the  hills." 

She  lighted  the  lamp  that  stood  by  the  open 
Bible,  then  slipped  her  arm  through  her  cousin's 
and  drew  her  away.  "  Thank  you  for  telling  me 
all  this,"  said  Esther,  lingering  a  moment  by  her 


138  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

grandfather's  chair.  "  I  love  to  hear  stories  of  what 
happened  here  so  long  ago." 

"  There  are  plenty  of  'em,  and  they'll  keep,"  he 
replied,  smiling;  and  then  he  returned  to  the  Proverbs 
again  with  unabated  enjoyment. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Esther,  as  the  two  walked 
away,  "  I  believe  I  should  really  love  Aunt  Katha- 
rine if  I  knew  her." 

Stella  gave  one  of  her  shrugs.  "  There's  no  account- 
ing for  tastes,"  she  said.  Then,  as  she  glanced  in  at 
the  barn  door,  which  they  were  passing  at  that  moment, 
she  added  with  a  laugh  :  "  I  declare,  if  Kate  hasn't 
managed  to  make  her  way  with  my  brother  Tom ! 
They're  hobnobbing  together  like  two  old  cronies." 

The  truth  was  Kate  Northmore  had  made  up  her 
mind  to  get  acquainted  with  her  cousin.  Whether 
it  was  the  barn  or  the  boy  that  had  brought  her 
out  this  evening  is  not  certain.  She  had  a  liking 
for  a  good  quality  of  each.  This  particular  barn 
was  of  a  larger  sort  than  she  was  used  to,  and  the 
boy  —  she  half  suspected  that  he  was  smaller.  There 
was  something  wrong  about  a  boy  who  would  go 
whistling  off  across  the  fields  when  his  chores  were 
done  without  saying  "  boo  "  to  a  girl  who  was  looking 
after  and  longing  to  go  with  him.  However,  he 
might  be  only  timid. 


AUNT    KATHARINE    SAXON.  139 

She  had  no  thought  of  winning  a  place  in  his 
regard  by  the  thing  she  did  when  she  stepped  into 
the  barn  to-night,  but  by  chance  she  had  done  it. 
She  had  seen  Dobbin  standing  in  his  stall  with 
his  harness  on,  as  he  had  been  put  there  an  hour 
before.  There  was  a  rush  of  work  now,  for  the 
cows  were  in  the  barn,  and  Tom  and  the  hired  man 
were  seated  at  the  milking.  She  had  taken  in  the 
situation ;  then,  with  a  word  to  Dobbin  and  a  good- 
natured  slap  on  his  flank,  stepped  in  beside  him 
and  removed  his  unnecessary  burden. 

It  was  a  foolish  thing  to  do,  for  she  had  on  her 
pretty  lawn,  sash  and  all,  but  the  fact  that  she  had 
not  minded  her  clothes,  together  with  the  surprising 
fact  that  she  could  do  the  deed  at  all,  had  impressed 
Tom  deeply. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "you're  the  first  girl  I  ever  saw 
who  could  do  that." 

"That!"  repeated  Kate,  "why,  I've  helped  about 
horses  ever  since  I  was  big  enough  to  reach  up. 
Father's  a  doctor,  you  know,  and  the  horses  have  to  be 
got  out  in  a  hurry  sometimes.  I  can  harness  and  un- 
harness about  as  quick  as  any  man  he  ever  had  on  the 
place.  I'm  strong  in  my  arms."  She  made  a  quick, 
free  movement  of  her  arms,  from  which  the  sleeves  fell 
back,  showing  the  firm  round  muscles,  then  added 


I4O  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

lightly  :  "  I  like  everything  about  horses,  specially  driv- 
ing. Dobbin's  too  fat  to  be  any  good.  What  makes 
you  feed  him  so  much?  " 

"You'd  better  ask  grandfather  that  question,"  said 
Tom.  "  He  never  comes  into  the  barn  without  piling 
his  manger  full  of  hay.  He  thinks  the  rest  of  us 
abuse  him." 

They  exchanged  a  good-natured  laugh.  Then  Kate 
said :  "  I  should  think  you  would  want  more  than  one 
horse  on  this  place.  I  don't  see  how  you  can  stand  it 
to  work  behind  oxen;  they're  so  slow." 

Tom's  countenance  grew  a  trifle  rigid.  "We  like 
them  well  enough,"  he  said  stiffly. 

"Oh,  but  you  wouldn't,"  protested  Kate,  "if  you'd 
ever  worked  with  horses.  Out  our  way  they  do  all  the 
work  with  them,  and  you'll  hardly  see  a  farmer  driving 
into  town  with  a  one-horse  team." 

Tom  would  have  scorned  to  appear  at  all  impressed. 
"  I  shouldn't  care  for  such  a  lot  of  horses,"  he  said.  "  I 
like  cows.  There's  more  profit  in  them." 

"  Well,  when  it  comes  to  cows  you  can  make  a  bigger 
showing  than  we  can,"  said  Kate,  "but  that's  because 
you  raise  milk  and  we  raise  crops."  And  then  she 
added  in  a  tone  of  candor,  "  I  reckon  that  makes  the 
difference  in  the  way  the  work  is  done.  You  don't 
have  big  fields  to  plough  and  reap,  and  you  can  afford 


AUNT    KATHARINE    SAXON.  14! 

to  spend  time  crawling  round  behind  oxen  when  we 
can't" 

Tom  did  not  offer  any  reply  to  this  interesting 
theory.  "  What  makes  you  say  '  reckon  '  so  much  ?  " 
he  asked  abruptly. 

Kate's  eyes  widened.  "  It's  as  good  as  '  guess,'  isn't 
it?"  she  retorted.  "I'd  as  lief  reckon  as  guess  any 
time." 

Tom  poured  his  pail  of  milk  into  the  big  strainer  and 
turned  to  go.  "  I've  got  another  cow  to  milk  before 
I'm  through,"  he  said. 

"I  can  milk,  too,"  said  Kate,  "though  I  don't  care 
much  about  it.  Aunt  Milly  taught  me."  And  then  she 
added,  with  a  glance  down  the  line  of  stalls :  "  But  if  I 
were  going  to  do  it  I  shouldn't  want  the  cows  cooped 
up  this  way.  I  should  want  them  out  in  the  barn  lot." 

"What,  loose  in  the  yard?"  repeated  Tom.  He 
positively  had  to  stop  now.  "  And  have  them  walking 
round  all  the  time  you're  trying  to  milk  them  ?  Well, 
I  should  think  that  would  be  a  pretty  business !  " 

"  Our  cow  doesn't  walk  round  when  we're  milking 
her,"  said  Kate.  "Why,  a  cow  naturally  wants  to  be 
milked  when  the  time  comes,  and  it's  a  great  deal 
pleasanter  being  outdoors.  We  don't  care  so  very  much 
about  the  milking-stool,  either,"  she  added,  laughing. 
"  I  could  do  it  on  a  pinch  without  any." 


142  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

"What,  squat  on  your  feet,  and  the  cow  not  even 
tied  up ! "  ejaculated  Tom.  The  accomplishments  of 
his  cousin  Kate  were  certainly  out  of  the  ordinary.  He 
looked  at  her  with  a  growing  curiosity,  then  added 
loftily :  "  In  this  part  of  the  country  women  don't 
milk.  We  don't  think  it's  their  business." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  you  don't,"  said  Kate;  "but  'tisn't 
such  a  queer  thing  for  women  to  do  as  you  seem  to 
think.  In  most  countries  women  generally  do  it." 

"I  never  heard  of  a  woman  milking  before,"  said 
Tom,  doggedly. 

Kate's  eyes  grew  big  again.  "Why,  in  stories  they 
always  do  it,"  she  cried. 

Tom  looked  impervious  to  any  memory  of  the  sort, 
and  she  added,  with  insistence:  "  You  must  have  heard 
of  the  woman  who  counted  her  chickens  before  they 
were  hatched.  She  had  a  pail  of  milk  on  her  head  at 
the  very  time,  you  know ;  and  in  the  '  House  that  Jack 
Built '  it  was  the  '  maiden  all  forlorn  who  milked  the  cow 
with  the  crumpled  horn.'  The  man  hadn't  a  thing  to 
do  with  it  except  bothering  her." 

Certainly  Tom  could  not  deny  acquaintance  with 
those  classics.  "  I  never  took  much  stock  in  Mother 
Goose,"  he  said,  starting  on  with  his  pail  again. 

"  But  you've  heard  of  them,"  Kate  cried  triumph- 
antly. He  did  not  look  back  this  time,  but  he  was 


AUNT    KATHARINE    SAXON.  143 

evidently  meditating.  As  for  Kate,  she  felt  that  the 
acquaintance  had  begun  in  an  auspicious  manner,  and 
perched  on  the  side  of  the  cutting  machine  to  wait  for 
his  return. 

They  were  together  preparing  some  cut-feed  for 
Dobbin's  evening  meal  when  the  girls  looked  in  at 
the  door,  and  the  talk  was  evidently  flowing  with  the 
greatest  ease. 

"This  is  just  like  a  cutting  machine  we  used  to  have 
at  home,  and  I  have  special  reason  to  remember  it," 
Kate  was  saying  as  she  turned  the  wheel,  "  for  I  nearly 
lost  the  end  of  my  thumb  in  it  when  I  was  a  little  tot. 
Father  was  at  home,  as  good  luck  would  have  it,  and 
he  fixed  it  up  so  quick  that  no  great  harm  came  of  it." 
She  held  up  a  pink  thumb  for  Tom's  inspection,  and 
added,  "  You  wouldn't  know  it  now  by  anything  except 
the  nail  being  a  little  thicker  than  common  at  one  cor- 
ner, and  that's  really  been  an  advantage  to  me,  for  I 
can  open  a  jack-knife  without  asking  a  boy  to  do  it  for 
me." 

Tom  gave  a  grunt  of  approval.  "  And  sharpen  the 
pencil  too?"  he  asked.  Then,  suddenly:  "Are  there 
many  boys  out  your  way  ?  There  are  more  girls 
here." 

"Oh,  there  are  lots  of  boys,"  said  Kate,  and  then  she 
added :  "  but  the  nicest  one  of  all  has  gone  to  college, 


144  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

and  we  don't  see  much  of  him  nowadays.  Are  you 
going  to  college  ?  " 

He  stirred  the  cut-feed  for  a  minute  without  speak- 
ing, then  shook  his  head.  "  Stella  wants  me  to  go,"  he 
said,  "and  grandfather  used  to  talk  about  it,  too,  but 
he's  sort  of  given  it  up  lately.  I  guess  he  thinks  I'm 
not  scholar  enough ;  and  I'm  not,"  he  added  frankly. 
"  I  don't  take  to  studying.  I'd  rather  work-  with  things 
that  are  outside  of  my  own  head." 

Kate  dropped  the  handle  of  the  cutting  machine. 
"Tom,"  she  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  heartfelt  sympathy, 
"  that's  just  the  way  I  feel,  too.  I  never  did  like  school 
as  Esther  and  Mort  and  some  of  the  others  do.  I 
don't  want  to  be  a  stupid,  of  course  —  you  have  to  know 
things  or  you're  no  account ;  but  for  my  part,  I'd  never 
get  them  out  of  books  if  I  could  get  them  any  other 
way.  I  like  people  and  affairs  better." 

There  is  nothing  like  downright  honesty  to  prepare 
the  way  for  friendship.  They  had  made  a  frank  dis- 
closure of  feeling  on  an  important  subject,  and  Kate 
and  Tom  were  comrades  from  that  moment ;  comrades, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  certain  other  points  of  view 
were  by  no  means  held  in  common,  and  that  each  con- 
tended strenuously  for  his  own.  They  talked  for  ? 
long  time  of  cousinly  affairs.  With  his  mother's  quiet 
way  of  looking  at  things,  Tom  had  a  considerable  spice 


AUNT    KATHARINE    SAXON.  145 

of  his  grandfather's  shrewdness,  and  Kate  found  his 
opinions  on  various  matters  interesting. 

"  Aunt  Katharine  must  be  a  strange  woman,"  she 
said,  when  they  had  touched  on  a  variety  of  other  sub- 
jects. "  Do  they  always  fight,  she  and  grandfather,  as 
they  did  to-day  ?  " 

"  Always,"  said  Tom,  promptly.  "  It's  nip  and  tuck 
every  time  they  come  together.  You'd  think  sometimes 
they  fairly  hated  each  other.  But  if  one  of  them  gets 
sick  you  ought  to  see  how  the  other  frets.  Grandfather 
gets  into  a  regular  stew  sometimes  over  her  living  off 
there  by  herself ;  but  it's  a  good  thing  she  does.  We 
couldn't  stand  it  if  she  lived  here." 

"  What  supports  her  ? "  asked  Kate,  with  her  quick 
instinct  for  practical  details. 

"  Supports  her  ?  "  repeated  Tom  ;  "  why,  Aunt  Kath- 
arine's rich.  Didn't  you  know  that?  She  had  some 
property  left  to  her  years  ago,  —  it  was  city  land,  I 
believe,  —  and  it  rose  in  value  so  it  made  a  fortune.  I 
heard  grandfather  say  once  that  she  must  have  as 
much  as  forty  thousand  dollars  of  her  own."  The  sum 
seemed  unlimited  wealth  to  the  country  boy.  "  Nobody 
knows  what  she'll  do  with  it,"  he  added  ;  "  she'll  want 
to  fix  it  so  the  men  can't  get  it.  She  says  she'd  leave 
it  to  one  of  her  female  relatives  if  she  could  find  one 
who'd  promise  never  to  marry." 

L 


146  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

"  She'd  better  propose  that  to  Stella,"  said  Kate ; 
"  she's  so  fond  of  her  art." 

Tom  whistled.  "She  isn't  so  fond  of  it  but  she'd 
leave  it  quick  enough  if  the  right  one  asked  her,"  he 
said  astutely. 

And  then  they  rose  and  walked  together  toward 
the  house.  Aunt  Elsie,  in  the  kitchen  door,  was  call- 
ing, with  an  anxious  note  in  her  voice :  "  Girls,  girls, 
why  don't  you  come  in  ?  You're  staying  out  in  the 
dew  too  long." 


CHAPTER   VII. 

HUCKLEBERRYING. 

IT  seemed  as  if  a  summer  of  ordinary  time  was  com- 
pressed into  that  first  fortnight  at  the  old  home- 
stead. Esther  wondered  sometimes  whether  the 
surrounding  hills,  over  whose  tops  the  morning  broke 
earlier,  and  in  whose  soft  green  hollows  the  twilights 
seemed  to  linger  longer  than  any  she  had  known 
before,  had  not  something  to  do  with  the  lifting  of  the 
days  into  the  lengthened  space  of  life  and  happiness. 
The  charm  of  the  New  England  landscape,  its  restful 
yet  enticing  beauty,  its  reserves,  its  revelations,  had 
captured  her  fancy  and  her  heart  completely.  Her 
letters  were  full  of  the  new  delight.  Mrs.  Northmore 
smiled  as  she  read  them,  and  felt  that  in  Esther  she 
was  living  over  again  the  joys  of  her  own  girlhood. 
As  for  Kate,  she  was  feeling  the  new  environment 
as  keenly  as  her  sister,  but  there  was  a  difference  in 
the  letters.  They  were  not  rhapsodical,  and  they  were 
sprinkled  with  questions,  such,  for  instance,  as,  "  Dorit 


148  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

we  speak  as  correctly  in  the  West  as  they  do  in  New 
England  ? "  "  Isn't  it  absurd  to  drop  the  r  clear  out 
of  words,  and  do  we  over-do  it  ? " 

Between  herself  and  Tom  Saxon  there  was  continual 
sharpshooting  as  to  the  relative  merits  of  their  re- 
spective sections,  but  it  did  not  diminish  in  the  least 
their  relish  for  each  other's  company.  She  rode  with 
him  in  the  mornings  to  the  milk  factory,  and  occa- 
sionally took  down  the  load  of  cans  in  his  stead.  She 
went  with  him  for  the  cows,  and  was  regularly  de- 
pended on  as  the  person  to  take  the  luncheon  to  the 
hayfield  in  the  middle  of  the  forenoon.  Sometimes 
she  stopped  and  ate  a  doughnut  with  the  workmen 
under  the  trees,  but  she  had  not  yet  developed  a  fond- 
ness for  the  peculiar  beverage  compounded  of  water, 
molasses,  and  vinegar,  vaguely  called  "drink,"  which 
seemed  the  approved  liquid  in  this  region  for  quench- 
ing the  thirst  of  haymakers. 

Indeed,  the  daily  round  furnished  to  each  of  the  girls 
so  much  of  enjoyment  that  they  could  easily  have 
spared  the  more  formal  pleasures,  but  Aunt  Elsie  had 
definite  ideas  as  to  the  courtesies  due  between  fami- 
lies, and  Stella's  prestige  in  the  community  gained 
ready  attention  for  her  cousins.  There  were  calls  in 
plenty  to  be  received  and  returned,  and  for  picnics 
and  teas  there  were  early  invitations. 


HUCKLEBERRYING.  149 

Esterly  was  counted  one  of  the  most  social  of  New 
England  towns,  and  its  summer  population  included 
city  boarders  who  had  a  mind  for  pleasure.  They  fell 
in  with  whatever  was  planned  for  them,  Kate  and 
Esther,  with  ready  enjoyment,  yet  for  them  both  the 
distinctive  engagements  of  the  old  home  and  the  old 
farm  remained  easily  the  best.  One  of  them,  sug- 
gested by  Aunt  Elsie  one  day  at  table,  brought  a  thrill 
of  peculiar  pleasure. 

"  I  do  wish,"  she  said,  with  a  glance  at  the  young 
people  which  included  them  all,  "that  we  could  get 
some  huckleberries.  They  say  they're  ripe  on  Gray's 
Hill,  and  I  do  need  something  to  make  pies  of." 

Stella  gave  a  little  sigh.  It  was  the  first  invita- 
tion of  the  season  to  an  occupation  which  she  detested ; 
but  Esther  exclaimed  :  "  Go  huckleberrying !  Oh,  I 
should  like  that  so  much !  I've  heard  mother  talk 
about  huckleberrying,  and  I  want  to  see  what  it's 
like." 

"So  do  I,"  said  Kate,  eagerly.  "Why  can't  we 
go  this  afternoon?" 

Stella  gave  another  sigh,  this  time  a  deeper  one. 
"  Oh,  what  accommodating  creatures  you  are ! "  she 
said.  "  I  ought  to  want  to  go  with  you,  of  course, 
but  to  tell  the  honest  truth  I  don't  hanker  for  it, 
and  I'm  positively  opposed  to  climbing  Gray's  Hill 


150  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

unless  we  know  for  certain  that  those  berries  are 
ripe." 

"  I  saw  some  there  yesterday,  over  on  the  south 
side,"  said  Tom. 

"Then  maybe  you'd  better  go  too,"  said  his  mother, 
persuasively.  "  You  could  show  the  girls  right  where 
they  are." 

Tom  may  have  regretted  that  he  had  aired  his 
knowledge,  but  there  was  no  escape  for  him  now, 
especially  as  his  grandfather  added  briskly,  "Yes, 
Tom,  you  can  go  as  well  as  not,  for  we  shan't 
get  in  the  hay  that's  down  this  afternoon,  it's  so 
cloudy." 

And  so  it  happened  that  an  hour  later  the  four, 
well  supplied  with  tin  pails,  were  off  in  search  of 
huckleberries.  Across  the  fields  odorous  of  new- 
mown  hay,  by  the  foot-bridge  over  the  meadow  brook, 
across  the  old  county  road  and  over  the  low  stone 
wall,  they  made  their  pleasant  pilgrimage.  Tom  and 
Kate  were  ahead,  she  keeping  steady  pace  with  his 
easy  swing,  lowlander  though  she  was,  and  not  to 
the  manner  born  of  such  climbing  as  this.  Once,  in 
a  dimple  of  the  hill,  she  made  a  dash  forward,  and, 
swinging  her  pail  above  her  head,  shouted :  "  I've 
found  the  first !  Here  they  are !  " 

But  Tom,  who  was  up  with  her  in  a  moment,  gave 


HUCKLEBERRYING.  15 1 

a  whoop  of  disdain  as  he  scanned  the  low  cluster  of 
bushes.  "  Those !  why,  those  are  blueberries.  Don't 
you  know  the  difference  ?  " 

Kate  confessed  with  some  humility  that  she  did 
not,  but  the  humility  vanished  when  he  added  loftily : 
"  And  just  as  like  as  not  you  never  will.  There 
were  some  Westerners  boarding  over  at  Lester's  one 
summer,  and  those  folks  couldn't  tell  one  from  t'other 
clear  up  to  the  end  of  the  season." 

"Well,"  said  Kate,  with  a  toss  of  her  head,  "maybe 
we  can't  tell  huckleberries  from  blueberries,  but  we 
can  always  tell  hickory  nuts  from  walnuts,  which  is 
more  than  you  folks  here  can  do,  and  there's  a  sight 
more  difference  between  them  than  there  is  between 
these  little  things." 

She  broke  a  blueberry  bush,  and  looked  at  it  with 
an  attention  which  promised  that  she,  at  least,  would 
know  the  species  when  she  met  it  again,  then  started 
on  with  the  remark,  "Well,  whichever  of  them  I  get, 
I  mean  to  fill  my  bucket  with  something  before  I 
leave  this  hill." 

"There  you  go  again,"  grumbled  Tom,  who  had 
been  rather  set  back  by  the  taunt  about  the  nuts. 
"  You  always  call  a  pail  a  bucket." 

"Well,  it  is  a  bucket,"  cried  Kate,  beating  a  tattoo 
on  the  bottom  of  hers  with  spirit.  "  You  couldn't 


152  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

prove  that  I  was  wrong  when  you  went  to  the  dic- 
tionary about  it,  and  anyway  it  isn't  half  as  funny  to 
call  a  pail  a  bucket  as  to  call  a  frying-pan  a  '  spider ' 
and  a  stool  a  '  cricket.' ' 

"  I  suppose  you  children  are  quarrelling  about  some- 
thing as  usual,"  observed  Stella,  who  with  Esther 
had  just  caught  up  with  the  advance  guard.  "  I 
wonder  how  you  can  keep  it  up  so  steadily.  I  should 
think  you'd  sometimes  get  tired." 

"  I'll  tell  you  one  thing,  sis,"  said  Tom,  with 
brotherly  responsiveness,  "you'll  have  to  keep  at 
the  picking  a  little  steadier  than  you  generally  do, 
or  it  won't  make  anybody  tired  to  carry  home  the 
berries  you'll  get.  This  is  the  way  she  does,"  he 
added,  turning  to  his  cousins ;  "  she  goes  fidgeting 
round,  looking  for  the  place  where  they're  thickest, 
and  when  she  finds  it  she  settles  down  and  draws 
a  picture  of  a  tree,  or  a  rock,  or  something.  I'll  bet 
she's  got  her  drawing  things  with  her  now." 

Stella  did  not  deny  the  charge.  "  What  irrelevant 
remarks  you  do  contrive  to  make,  Tom  !  "  she  said. 
"  Come,  go  ahead,  if  you  mean  to  show  us  where 
those  berries  are." 

They  found  them,  and  were  all  busily  picking  in  a 
few  minutes  more.  However  Stella's  interest  in  huckle- 
berries might  flag  later  on  there  was  no  criticism  to 


HUCKLEBERRYING.  153 

be  made  on  her  attention  at  first,  and  her  fingers  flew 
over  the  bushes  at  a  rate  which  augured  well  for  the' 
filling  of  her  pail.  As  for  the  North  more  girls,  they 
were  in  ecstasies.  Kate  settled  down  to  the  business  at 
once,  though  for  a  while  she  ate  most  of  the  berries  she 
picked,  while  Esther  paused  between  the  handfuls  to 
take  long  whiffs  of  the  sweet  fern  which  grew  every- 
where among  the  bushes,  and  to  fill  her  eyes  with  the 
landscape  which  looked  fairer  than  ever  from  the  side 
of  this  green  old  hill. 

Everything  was  interesting  —  the  sights,  the  smells, 
the  blossoms  which  were  all  around  them ;  even  the 
sprig  of  lobelia  which  Tom  presented  for  his  cousins' 
tasting,  having  first  cunningly  prepared  the  way  with 
spearmint  and  pennyroyal  —  how  Kate  wished  she 
could  return  the  favor  with  a  green  persimmon  !  —  and 
the  slender  yellow  worm,  industriously  measuring  the 
bushes,  had  its  own  claim  to  attention.  Its  name  and 
manner  of  travel  reminded  Kate  of  one  of  Aunt  Milly's 
songs  with  an  admonishing  refrain  of,  "  Keep  an  inch- 
ing along,  Keep  an  inching  along,"  and  she  trolled  it 
out  with  a  rollicking  plantation  accent  that  charmed  her 
audience. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  singing  which  drew  a  traveller 
who  was  climbing  up  the  hill  in  their  direction.  In  a 
pause  of  the  verses  Tom  suddenly  exclaimed  :  "  Upon 


154  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

my  word,  there's  Solomon  Ridgeway.  He's  got  his 
pack  on  his  back,  too.  Let's  have  some  fun." 

It  was  indeed  the  queer  protege  of  Aunt  Katharine 
who  appeared  at  that  moment,  bowing  and  smiling  as 
he  emerged  from  behind  a  rock.  Evidently  Tom  did 
not  share  his  grandfather's  extreme  dislike  for  the 
man's  society,  for  he  advanced  to  meet  him  in  the  most 
friendly  manner. 

"Well,  Solomon,"  he  exclaimed,  "so  you  thought 
you'd  come  huckleberrying,  too !  Do  you  expect  to  fill 
that  box  of  yours  this  afternoon  ?  " 

The  face  of  the  little  old  man,  which  was  fairly 
twinkling  with  pleasure,  expressed  an  eager  dissent. 
"Oh,  no,  I  —  I  didn't  come  huckleberryin',"  he  said, 
"  and  I  couldn't  think  of  puttin'  'em  in  this  box.  Why 
this  box  — "  he  lowered  his  voice  with  a  delighted 
chuckle —  "  has  got  some  of  my  jewels  in  it.  You  see, 
I'm  goin'  over  to  see  little  Mary  Berger.  They  say 
she's  got  the  mumps,  and  I  kind  o'  thought  'twould 
brighten  her  up  to  see  'em.  It  don't  hurt  the  children 
—  bless  their  hearts  —  to  see  fine  things;  it  does  'em 
good.  And  I  always  tell  "em,"  he  added  earnestly, 
"  that  there  air  things  better  'n  pearls  and  rubies. 
'Tain't  everybody  that  the  Lord  gives  riches  to,  and  if 
they're  good  they'll  be  happy  without  'em." 

"Why,  that's   quite  a  moral,   Solomon,"   said  Tom. 


HUCKLEBERRYING.  155 

"You  ought  to  have  been  a  preacher."  He  sent  a 
roguish  glance  at  the  girls,  then,  throwing  an  accent  of 
solicitude  into  his  voice,  added :  "  But  aren't  you  afraid 
you  might  get  robbed  going  through  those  woods  ? 
There's  quite  a  strip  of  them  before  you  get  to 
Berger's." 

The  owner  of  the  jewels  sent  an  apprehensive  glance 
into  the  woods  which  skirted  the  brow  of  the  hill  and 
answered  bravely  :  "  Yes,  I  be,  Thomas.  I  be  a  little 
afeared  of  it.  I  —  I  won't  go  so  far  as  to  say  I  ain't. 
But  I  don't  b'lieve  a  body  or'  to  stan'  back  on  that 
account  when  there's  somethin'  they  feel  as  if  they  or' 
to  be  doin',  and  I've  always  been  took  care  of  before  — 
I've  always  been  took  care  of." 

The  manliness  of  this  ought  to  have  shamed  Tom 
out  of  his  waggishness,  but  he  was  not  done  with  it 
yet.  "  Solomon,"  he  said,  with  the  utmost  gravity, 
—  "I  should  think  you'd  want  to  get  your  property 
into  something  besides  jewellery.  Then  you  wouldn't 
run  such  risks.  Besides,  if  you  had  it  in  the  bank, 
you  know,  it  would  be  growing  bigger  all  the  time." 

The  little  man's  face  wore  a  look  of  distress,  and  he 
put  his  hand  on  his  box  protectingly.  "  They  tell  me 
that  sometimes,"  he  said  in  a  plaintive  tone,  "  but  I  — 
I  couldn't  think  of  it.  It  wouldn't  be  half  as  much 
comfort  to  me  as  'tis  this  way.  Besides,  I'm  rich 


1 56  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

enough  now,  and  when  a  body's  got  enough,  it's 
enough,  ain't  it  ?  And  why  can't  you  settle  down  and 
take  the  good  of  it  ?  " 

"  I  think  you're  quite  right,  Mr.  Ridgeway,"  said 
Stella.  "  It's  perfectly  vulgar  for  people  to  go  strain- 
ing and  scrambling  after  more  money  when  they  have 
as  much  as  they  can  enjoy  already.  The  world  would 
be  a  good  deal  pleasanter  place  than  it  is  if  more  peo- 
ple felt  as  you  do  about  that." 

She  punctuated  this  with  reproving  glances  at  Tom, 
to  which,  however,  he  paid  not  the  smallest  attention. 

"  But  you  know,  Solomon,"  he  said  artfully,  "  if 
you  only  had  your  money  where  you  could  draw 
on  it,  you  wouldn't  have  to  work  as  you  do  now. 
They  keep  you  trotting  pretty  lively  at  the  farm, 
don't  they  ?  And  I'll  warrant  Aunt  Katharine  finds 
you  chores  enough  when  you're  at  her  house." 

The  little  man's  face  was  clear  again.  Here,  at 
least,  was  a  point  on  which  he  had  no  misgiving. 
"  Law,  Thomas,"  he  said,  "I  —  I  like  to  keep  busy. 
Why,  there  ain't  a  bit  o'  sense  in  a  body  bein'  all 
puffed  up  and  thinkin'  he's  too  good  to  work  like 
other  folks  jest  'cause  he's  rich.  'Tain't  your  own 
doings,  being  rich,  leastways  not  all  of  it.  It's 
partly  the  way  things  happen,  and  then  it's  the 
disposition  you've  got.  That's  the  way  I  look  at  it. 


HUCKLEBERRYING.  I  5  / 

And  it  always  'peared  to  me,"  he  added,  with  the 
most  touching  simplicity,  "that,  when  a  body's  rich 
as  I  be,  he  or'  to  do  a  leetle  more  'n  common  folks  to 
sort  o'  try  'n'  pay  up  for  it." 

"Mr.  Ridgeway,"  exclaimed  Stella  —  it  was  im- 
possible after  this  to  let  that  graceless  brother  say 
another  word  —  "  would  you  mind  showing  us  some 
of  your  pretty  things  right  now  ?  My  cousins  never 
saw  them,  and  I'm  sure  they'd  enjoy  it  ever  so  much." 

The  countenance  of  Solomon  Ridgeway  was  aflame 
with  pleasure.  He  lowered  his  box  from  his  shoulders 
and  unstrapped  it  with  a  childish  eagerness.  "Why, 
I  —  I'd  be  proud  to,  Miss  Stella,"  he  said,  with  a 
hurrying  rapture.  Then,  looking  about  for  a  suitable 
place  of  exhibition,  he  added,  "  Jest  come  under  that 
big  chestnut  tree  over  there,  and  I'll  spread  'em  all 
out  so  you  can  see  "em." 

It  was  not  huckleberrying,  but  something  much 
more  unique,  which  engaged  them  for  the  next  half 
hour.  The  collection  which  Solomon  Ridgeway  drew 
from  his  box  and  spread  before  their  dazzled  eyes 
was  a  marvel  of  tinsel  and  glitter.  There  were 
brooches  and  rings  and  chains  enough  to  have  made 
the  fortune  of  half  a  dozen  pedlers  ;  trumpery  stuff, 
most  of  it,  but  what  of  that  ? 

The   owner   was   not   one    to    let    a    carping   world 


158  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

settle  for  him  the  value  of  his  treasure.  There  was 
paste  that  gleamed  like  diamonds  in  settings  burnished 
like  the  finest  gold,  and  there  were  the  colors  of  topaz 
and  emerald  and  sapphire  and  ruby.  Who  cared 
whether  they  flashed  in  bits  of  glass  or  in  stones 
drawn  from  the  mines  ?  They  were  things  of  beauty 
for  a'  that,  and  they  filled  their  owner's  soul  with 
joy.  He  had  gathered  them  slowly  through  the 
savings  of  earlier  years,  and  the  gifts  of  friends  ;  he 
loved  them  every  one,  and  believed  them  to  be  of 
fabulous  value. 

"  They  ain't  all  I've  got,  you  know.  There's  a  lot 
more,"  he  said  repeatedly ;  and  then  he  rubbed  his 
hands  together  and  smiled  upon  his  audience  with 
the  air  of  a  Croesus  demanding,  "  Do  you  know  any 
one  richer  than  I  ?  " 

It  was  impossible  not  to  wish  to  give  him  pleasure, 
and  more  than  once  the  girls  exclaimed  over  the 
beauty  of  some  trinket.  Esther  was  especially  warm 
in  her  admiration,  and  there  was  no  insincerity  in  her 
words  when  she  said :  "  I  think  you  have  some  per- 
fectly lovely  things,  Mr.  Ridgeway.  I  don't  wonder 
you  prize  them,  and  I'm  sure  that  little  girl  who  is 
sick  will  thank  you  all  her  life  for  letting  her  see 
them." 

He   had   almost   forgotten   his   friend  on  the   other 


HUCKLEBERRYING.  1 59 

side  of  the  hill.  He  gathered  up  his  treasures  now 
with  a  sudden  remembrance,  lifted  his  box  to  his 
shoulders  again  and  was  off,  turning  back  again  and 
again  to  make  his  little  bow,  half  of  pomposity  and 
half  of  humility,  as  he  hurried  away. 

"Is  he  crazy,  or  isn't  he?"  exclaimed  Kate,  when 
he  was  fairly  out  of  hearing. 

"He's  queer.  That's  all  you  can  say,"  said  Stella; 
"but  for  my  part,  I  don't  mind  him.  People  are  so 
much  of  a  pattern  here  in  America  that  I  think  it's 
rather  nice  to  have  one  of  a  different  sort  mixed  in 
now  and  then." 

"  I  don't  see  how  he  can  keep  up  his  notion  of 
being  rich  and  live  in  a  poorhouse,"  said  Kate. 

"  Don  Quixote  thought  all  the  inns  were  castles," 
said  Stella.  "  I  don't  know  why  a  person  with  an 
imagination  like  his  shouldn't  take  a  poorhouse  for  a 
first-class  hotel." 

Her  interest  in  huckleberrying  was  gone  now,  and 
the  mood  Tom  had  foretold  was  upon  her.  Esther 
divined  it  as  she  saw  her  looking  at  the  chestnut 
tree,  with  her  head  tipped  to  one  side. 

"  Oh,  do  sketch  it,  dear,"  she  whispered.  "  Did 
you  really  bring  drawing  materials  with  you?" 

Stella  laughed,  and  drew  a  pencil  and  small  pad 
from  the  bag  that  hung  at  her  belt. 


I6O  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

"  Fill  my  pail  for  me,  and  you  shall  have  it  for  a 
souvenir,"  she  said. 

The  sketch  was  a  pretty  thing,  and  the  pails,  though 
not  all  full,  contained  a  goodly  quantity  of  berries, 
when  they  descended  the  hill  in  the  late  afternoon. 
As  they  reached  the  bottom  a  sudden  thought  came 
to  Esther.  "  Do  you  suppose  your  mother  would 
care  if  I  should  take  my  berries  round  to  Aunt  Kath- 
arine ? "  she  asked. 

"  My  mother  would  be  ready  to  give  you  a  special 
reward  for  thinking  of  it,"  said  Stella.  "  But  do  you 
really  feel  like  going  round  by  Aunt  Katharine's  ? 
It's  ever  so  far  out  of  our  way ! " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  care  for  that,"  said  Esther,  and  she 
added  quickly :  "  but  please  don't  feel  that  you  must 
go  too.  I  know  the  way." 

Perhaps  she  was  not  really  anxious  that  Stella 
should  accompany  her,  nor  sorry  that  Kate  was 
already  far  ahead  with  Tom,  when  she  turned  down 
the  old  road  a  few  minutes  later  with  her  face  toward 
Aunt  Katharine's.  "  I  shall  only  stay  a  little  while," 
she  called  back.  "  You  won't  be  home  very  long 
before  me." 

But  she  was  wrong  as  to  this.  Supper  was  over 
and  the  sunset  fading  when  she  appeared  at  her 
grandfather's. 


HUCKLEBERRYING.  l6l 

"  She  insisted  on  my  staying,  though  I  had  no 
thought  of  her  asking  me,"  she  explained  to  Aunt 
Elsie.  "She  was  delighted  with  the  huckleberries." 

Sitting  in  the  south  doorway  afterward  with  Stella, 
she  said  very  earnestly :  "  You  never  saw  anybody 
pleasanter  than  Aunt  Katharine  was  all  the  time 
I  was  there.  I'm  sure  she's  a  great  deal  kinder 
than  you  think  she  is.  Do  you  know  we  got  talking 
of  Solomon  Ridgeway,  and  she  told  me  some  real 
interesting  things  about  him.  She  says  he  was  mar- 
ried when  he  was  young,  but  his  wife  only  lived  a 
few  months.  Evidently  Aunt  Katharine  didn't  think 
much  of  her,  for  she  said  she  was  a  silly  little  thing, 
who  cared  more  about  finery  than  anything  else.  But 
he  was  all  bound  up  in  her,  and  when  she  died  it 
almost  killed  him.  He  had  a  terrible  sickness,  and 
when  he  got  over  it  his  mind  had  this  queer  kink  in 
it,  and  never  came  right  afterward."  She  paused 
a  moment,  then  added,  "Somehow  I  couldn't  help 
thinking  that  there  might  be  a  clew  in  that  story  to 
the  reason  why  she  is  so  good  to  him." 

"  She's  just  as  queer  in  her  way  as  he  is  in  his.  I 
guess  it's  an  affinity  of  queerness,"  said  Stella,  care- 
lessly. And  then  she  called  her  cousin's  attention 
to  the  color  of  the  clouds,  which  were  fading  in  airy 
fringes  over  Gray's  Hill. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

A    PAIR    OF    CALLS. 

AMONG  the  honors  which  came  to  Ruel  Saxon 
with  advancing  years  there  was  probably  none 
which  he  valued  more  than  his  position,  well  recog- 
nized in  the  community,  as  keeper  of  the  best  fund 
of  stories  of  the  olden  time,  and  referee-in-chief  on 
all  debated  points  of  local  history.  There  were  plenty 
of  old  people  in  Esterly,  some  even  who  had  reached 
the  patriarchal  age  in  which  he  himself  so  gloried, 
but  there  was  no  other  with  a  memory  like  his, 
none  with  so  unique  a  gift  for  setting  out  the  past 
event  in  warmth  and  color.  The  gift  was  his  own, 
but  the  memory  was  in  part  at  least  that  of  some 
who  had  gone  before. 

It  had  been  the  old  man's  fortune  in  his  youth  to 
be  the  constant  companion  of  a  grandfather  who, 
like  himself,  was  a  local  authority;  a  deaf  man,  who 
relied  much  on  the  boy's  clear  voice  and  quick  at- 
tention for  intercourse  with  his  fellows.  Perhaps  the 
service  had  been  irksome  sometimes  to  the  boy,  but 

162 


A   PAIR    OF    CALLS.  163 

it  had  its  reward  for  him  now;  for  his  grandfather's 
experiences  and  his  own  blended  in  his  thought  as 
one  continuous  whole,  and  covered  a  space  of  time 
no  other  memory  in  the  town  could  match. 

The  time  was  not  yet  when  every  rural  village  of 
New  England  had  its  historical  society,  but  the  re- 
covery of  the  past  was  becoming  a  fad  in  the  cities, 
and  families  who  valued  themselves  on  their  standing 
were  waking  up  to  the  importance  of  making  sure 
of  their  ancestors.  A  letter  from  some  gatherer  of 
ancient  facts,  making  requisition  on  Ruel  Saxon's 
knowledge,  was  not  uncommon  now,  and  more  than 
once  a  caller  had  stopped  at  the  farmhouse  hoping 
to  gain  help  from  him  in  tracing  some  obscure 
branch  of  a  family  tree. 

The  person  bent  on  such  an  errand  was  so  com- 
monly of  serious  and  elderly  aspect  that  the  ex- 
tremely stylish  young  man  who  rode  into  the  yard 
one  afternoon  was  not  suspected  by  the  girls,  who 
saw  him  from  the  parlor,  of  belonging  to  this  class. 
Kate,  who  was  nearest  the  window,  was  quite  ex- 
cited by  the  appearance  of  a  gentleman  on  horse- 
back. She  had  not  seen  one  before  since  she  left 
home,  and  the  horse  itself  was  as  interesting  as  the 
rider. 

"  I'll  wager  anything  that's   a   blooded    Kentucky," 


164  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

she  said,  craning  her  neck  for  a  fuller  view.  "  My, 
but  isn't  she  a  beauty?  I'll  have  a  good  look  at 
her  if  his  highness  gets  down.  Wouldn't  I  like  to 
call  out,  'Light,  and  come  in,  stranger!'"  she  added 
under  her  breath.  "  Stella,  who  is  he  ?  He  must  be 
some  admirer  of  yours." 

"  Never  saw  him  before,"  said  Stella,  who  was 
eying  him  with  as  much  curiosity  as  Kate.  "  I'll 
tell  you  what,  he  must  be  a  connoisseur  in  art  and 
has  heard  of  my  Breton  Peasant.  Ha !  With  that 
horse  and  that  riding  costume  I  shall  charge  him  a 
hundred  and  fifty." 

By  this  time  the  young  man  had  reached  the 
hitching  post  and  jumped  down  from  the  saddle. 
He  patted  his  horse's  neck  when  he  had  adjusted  the 
hitching  rein,  flicked  the  dust  from  his  riding  boots 
with  his  gold-handled  whip,  and  proceeded  toward 
the  door. 

"  You  go,  Kate,"  whispered  Stella,  who  was  draw- 
ing Greenaway  figures  with  pen  and  ink  on  a  set  of 
table  doilies,  and  Kate  was  not  loath. 

"  Is  Deacon  Saxon  at  home  ? "  inquired  the  young 
man  in  a  pleasant  voice. 

"  I  think  so.     Will  you  come  in  ?  "  responded  Kate. 

"  It  isn't  the  Breton  Peasant  after  all,"  murmured 
Stella  to  Esther.  "  I  wonder  if  it  can  be  an  an- 


A    PAIR    OF    CALLS.  l$ 

cestor."  She  arranged  the  doilies  with  a  quick  artis- 
tic touch,  and  rose  as  the  young  man  entered  the 
room. 

He  had  presented  Kate  with  a  small  engraved 
card,  and  though  it  was  a  new  discovery  for  her 
that  gentlemen  ever  carried  such  things,  she  used  it 
as  if  to  the  manner  born. 

"  Mr.  Philip  Hadley,  Miss  Saxon  and  Miss  North- 
more,"  she  announced  easily,  and  Stella  added,  with 
a  pretty  bow,  "And,  Mr.  Hadley,  Miss  Kate  North- 
more." 

The  young  man  looked  bewildered.  In  search  of 
a  country  deacon  of  advanced  years,  at  an  old-fash- 
ioned farmhouse,  to  be  ushered  into  one  of  the  most 
attractive  of  parlors,  with  three  charming  young  ladies 
in  possession,  was  enough  to  bewilder.  But  he  rose 
to  the  surprise  gracefully  in  another  moment. 

"  I  must  apologize  for  intruding  myself  in  this  way," 
he  said,  "  but  I  have  heard  that  Deacon  Saxon  is  quite 
an  authority  on  Esterly  antiquities,  and  I  wanted  to 
see  him  on  a  little  matter  of  inquiry." 

"  He  will  be  delighted  to  talk  with  you.  You  may 
be  sure  of  it,"  said  Stella. 

It  was  only  a  minute  before  the  old  gentleman  ap- 
peared, walking  in  his  nimblest  manner  from  his  own 
room,  whither  Kate  had  gone  in  search  of  him.  She 


1 66  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

had  put  him  in  possession  of  his  caller's  name,  and 
he  extended  his  hand  with  an  air  of  welcome  and  curi- 
osity combined. 

"  Hadley  ?  Did  you  say  your  name  was  Hadley  ? 
Well,  I'm  pleased  to  see  you." 

"I'm  very  pleased  to  see  you,  sir,"  said  the  young 
man,  bowing  with  a  deference  of  manner  which  was 
peculiarly  pleasing.  "  I'm  taking  a  liberty  in  calling 
on  you,  I'm  well  aware  of  it,  but  it's  the  penalty  one 
pays  for  having  a  reputation  like  yours.  People  say 
you  know  everything  that  ever  happened  in  Esterly,  and 
as  I'm  looking  up  our  family  history  a  little,  I  thought 
perhaps  you  could  help  me.  I  confess  though,"  he 
added  with  a  smile,  "  I  expected  to  see  a  much  older 
person." 

"  Older  than  eighty-eight  ? "  quoth  Ruel  Saxon.  "  I 
was  born  in  the  year  seventeen  hundred  and  ninety- 
one,  and  if  I  live  till  the  twenty-first  day  of  next  June 
I  shall  be  eighty-nine." 

He  was  too  much  pleased  with  the  young  man's 
errand,  and  himself  as  the  person  appealed  to,  to 
pause  for  a  compliment  at  this  point,  and  added 
briskly,  "  I  shall  be  glad  to  tell  you  anything  I  know. 
'Tisn't  many  young  men  that  go  to  the  old  men  to 
inquire  about  things  that  are  past.  They  did  in  Bible 
times.  In  fact,  they  were  commanded  to :  '  Ask  thy 


A    PAIR    OF    CALLS.  l6/ 

father  and  he  will  show  thee,  thy  elders  and  they  will 
tell  thee.'  That's  what  it  says;  but  they  don't  do  it 
much  nowadays." 

"  They  have  more  books  to  go  to  now,  you  know, 
grandfather,"  said  Stella,  glancing  from  the  figure 
she  was  drawing,  a  charming  little  maid  in  a  sunbon- 
net,  and  incidentally  holding  it  up  as  she  spoke. 

"  Yes,  too  many  of  "em,"  said  her  grandfather,  rather 
grimly.  "They'd  go  to  the  old  folks  more  if  they 
couldn't  get  the  printed  stuff  so  easy." 

"  But,  grandfather,"  exclaimed  Esther,  "  the  young 
people  can't  all  go  to  the  old  people  who  know  the 
stories.  Kate  and  I  didn't  have  you,  for  instance,  till 
a  few  weeks  ago." 

Her  grandfather's  face  relaxed,  and  Mr.  Philip 
Hadley  looked  amused. 

"  But  Deacon  Saxon  is  right,"  he  said,  turning  to 
the  young  ladies.  "  It's  a  much  more  delightful  thing 
to  hear  a  story  from  one  who  has  been  a  part  of  it,  or 
remembers  those  who  were,  than  to  get  it  from  the 
printed  page.  I  fancy  the  spirit  of  a  thing  is  much 
better  preserved  by  oral  tradition  than  by  cold  print. 
You  remember  Sir  Walter  attributed  a  good  deal  of 
his  enthusiasm  for  Scottish  history  to  the  tales  of  his 
grandmother.  I  see  you  have  a  charming  sketch  of 
Abbotsford,"  he  added,  glancing  at  a  picture  on  the 


1 68  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

wall  opposite,  and  from  there  with  a  questioning  look 
to  Stella. 

She  gave  a  pleased  nod.  "We  were  sketching  in 
Scotland,  a  party  of  us,  last  summer,"  she  said. 

"  Were  you  ?  "  exclaimed  the  young  man.  "  I  was 
tramping  on  the  Border  myself." 

Perhaps  he  would  have  liked  to  defer  his  consulta- 
tion with  the  old  gentleman  long  enough  for  a  chat 
with  the  young  lady,  but  the  former  was  impatient  for 
it  now.  He  had  been  scrutinizing  his  caller's  face  for 
the  last  few  moments  with  sharp  attention. 

"  You  say  your  name  is  Hadley.  Are  you  any  re- 
lation to  the  Hadley s  that  used  to  live  in  our  town  ? 
There  was  quite  a  family  of  'em  here  fifty  years  ago." 

"  I  think  I  am,"  said  the  young  man,  smiling.  "  My 
father  was  born  in  Esterly,  but  moved  away  before  his 
remembrance.  Perhaps  you  knew  my  grandfather, 
Moses  Hadley." 

"  I  knew  of  him,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  nodding ; 
"but  our  family  never  had  much  to  do  with  the  Had- 
leys,  for  they  lived  on  the  other  side  of  town.  They 
were  good  respectable  folks,"  he  added  in  a  ruminating 
tone ;  "  didn't  care  any  great  about  schooling,  I  guess, 
but  they  were  master  hands  for  making  money.  I've 
heard  one  of  'em  made  a  great  fortune  somewhere  out 
West.  He  sent  a  handsome  subscription  to  our  soldiers' 
monument." 


A    PAIR    OF    CALLS.  169 

The  young  man,  who  had  flushed  distinctly  during 
part  of  this  speech,  looked  relieved  at  its  conclusion. 
"  That  must  have  been  my  Uncle  Nathan,"  he  said. 
"  My  father  went  into  business  in  Boston."  Perhaps 
it  was  by  way  of  foot-note  to  the  remark  about  his 
ancestors'  lack  of  zeal  for  learning  that  he  added 
carelessly:  "I  remember  my  cousin  came  to  Esterly 
once  to  see  your  monument.  We  were  in  Harvard 
together  at  the  time." 

The  remark  was  lost  on  the  old  gentleman.  He 
was  pursuing  his  own  train  of  recollection  now.  "  I 
knew  your  grandmother's  folks  better  'n  I  did  your 
grandfather's,"  he  said.  "  Moses  Hadley  married 
Mercy  Bridgewood,  and  the  Bridgewoods  and  our 
folks  neighbored  a  good  deal." 

"  Did  they  ? "  exclaimed  the  young  man,  with  a 
quick  eagerness  in  his  voice.  "  It  was  the  Bridge- 
wood  line  that  I  came  to  see  you  about.  Did  you 
ever  hear  of  Jabez  Bridgewood?" 

"  Jabez  Bridgewood ! "  exclaimed  Ruel  Saxon. 
"  What,  old  Jabe  that  used  to  live  on  Cony  Hill  ? 
Why,  sartin,  sartin !  He  'n'  my  grandfather  were 
great  cronies.  I've  heard  my  mother  say  more  'n 
once,  when  she  saw  him  coming  across  the  fields : 
'  Girls,  we  may  as  well  plan  for  an  extra  one  to 
supper.  There's  Jabe  Bridgewood,  and  he  'n'  your 


I7O  WHEAT   AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

grandfather'll  set  an'  talk  till  all's  blue.  There'll  be 
no  getting  rid  of  him.' ' 

The  young  man  colored  again,  and  this  time  the 
girls  did  too.  But  they  might  have  spared  their 
blushes.  The  old  gentleman  was  serenely  unconscious 
of  having  said  anything  to  call  them  out,  and  was 
pursuing  his  subject  now  under  a  full  head  of  de- 
lighted reminiscence. 

"  He  was  an  uncommon  bright  man,  old  Jabez 
Bridgewood ;  sort  o'  crotchety  and  queer,  but  chuck 
full  of  ideas,  and  ready  to  stand  up  for  'em  agin 
anybody.  He  was  pretty  quick-tempered,  too,  when 
anybody  riled  him  up.  My  grandfather's  told  me 
more  'n  once  about  a  row  he  got  into  with  Peleg 
Wright ;  and  the  beginning  of  it  was  right  here 
in  this  room.  You  see,  Peleg  was  a  regular  Tory, 
though  he  didn't  let  out  fair  'n'  square  where  he 
stood ;  and  Jabez  he  was  hot  on  the  other  side,  right 
from  the  start." 

A  gleam  of  amused  recollection  came  into  his  eyes 
as  he  added:  "They  used  to  tell  about  a  contrivance 
he  had  on  the  hill  to  pepper  the  British  with,  if  they 
should  happen  to  come  marching  along  his  road.  It 
was  a  young  sapling  that  he  bent  down  and  loaded 
with  stones  and  hitched  a  rope  to,  so  he  could  jerk 
it  up  and  let  fly  at  a  moment's  notice.  They  called 


A    PAIR   OF    CALLS.  17! 

it  '  Bridgewood's  Battery,'  but  I  guess  he  never  used 
it.  He  was  firing  that  old  flint-lock  gun  of  his  in- 
stead. He  was  one  of  the  minute-men,  you  know. 

"  But  about  that  fuss  with  Peleg  Wright.  I  don' 
know  just  what  'twas  Peleg  said.  He  was  sitting 
here  talking  with  Jabe  'n'  my  grandfather,  getting 
hold  of  everything  he  could,  I  guess ;  and  he  said 
something  about  our  duty  to  the  king  that  stirred 
Jabe  up  so  that  he  just  bent  down  and  scooped  up 
a  handful  o'  sand  —  you  know  they  had  the  floors 
sanded  in  those  days,  instead  of  having  carpets  on 
'em  —  and  flung  it  right  square  into  Peleg's  face." 

"Shocking!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Hadley,  laughing.  "Is 
that  the  sort  of  manners  my  great-great-grandfather 
had  ?  I'm  ashamed  of  him." 

"Well,  there  was  a  good  many  that  thought  he 
hadn't  or'  to  have  done  it,"  admitted  the  old  gen- 
tleman, "  but  I  don't  know.  Peleg  was  a  terrible 
mean-spirited,  deceiving  sort  of  cretur.  It  came  out 
afterwards  that  'twas  he  that  put  the  British  on  the 
track  of  some  gunpowder  our  folks  had  stored  up ; 
and  sometimes  I've  kind  o'  thought  it  served  him 
right.  The  Bible  says,  '  Bread  of  deceit  is  sweet  to 
a  man,  but  afterwards  his  mouth  shall  be  filled  with 
gravel,'  and  I  don'  know  but  your  grandfather  was 
just  fulfilling  scripture  when  he  gave  it  to  him." 


1/2  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

"  Do  you  suppose  he  thought  of  that  verse  when 
he  did  it  ?  "  said  Mr.  Hadley,  laughing  more  heartily 
than  before. 

"  Mebbe  he  didn't,"  said  the  deacon ;  "  but  there's 
been  plenty  of  scripture  fulfilled  without  folks  know- 
ing it.  Well,  naturally  it  made  Peleg  pretty  mad, 
'specially  when  folks  twitted  him  'bout  it ;  and  a  day 
or  two  afterward  he  pitched  on  Jabez  down  town, 
and  I  guess  it's  more  'n  likely  one  of  'em  would  have 
got  hurt  if  folks  hadn't  separated  'em.  Jabez  wrote 
some  verses  about  it  afterward,  and  I  remember  my 
grandfather  telling  me  one  of  'em  was:  — 

"  <  Old  Tory  Wright  with  me  did  fight, 

Designing  me  to  kill ; 
But  over  me  did  not  obtain 
To  gain  his  cursed  will.'  " 

"So  he  was  a  poet,  too!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Hadley. 

"Bless  you,  yes,"  said  Ruel  Saxon.  "When  he 
warn't  contriving  something  or  other,  he  was  always 
making  up  verses.  I've  seen  'em  scribbled  with  chalk 
all  over  his  house.  It  was  a  little  house  without  any 
paint  on  it,  and  when  it  got  so  full  it  wouldn't  hold 
any  more  he'd  rub  'em  out  and  put  on  some  fresh 
ones.  Paper  warn't  as  plenty  in  those  days  as  it  is 
now,  specially  not  with  Jabez." 


A    PAIR    OF    CALLS.  1/3 

"  Do  you  remember  any  more  of  his  verses?"  asked 
Mr.  Hadley,  who  was  evidently  a  good  deal  im- 
pressed with  this  ancestor  of  his,  in  spite  of  his  lack 
of  that  economic  turn  of  mind  which  had  so  distin- 
guished the  other  side  of  his  house. 

"  I  don'  know  as  I  do,"  said  the  old  gentleman, 
"though  I  guess  I  could  think  up  some  of  'em  if  I 
tried.  Oh,  Jabez  Bridgewood  was  a  good  deal  of  a 
character.  He  could  do  anything  he  set  his  hand  to, 
and  I  never  did  see  anybody  that  knew  as  much  about 
things  outdoors  as  he  did.  He  was  like  Solomon, 
and  spoke  of  the  trees,  'from  the  cedar  that  is  in 
Lebanon  to  the  hyssop  that  springeth  out  of  the 
wall ' ;  and  when  it  came  to  the  beasts  of  the  field, 
and  the  fowls  of  the  air,  and  the  creeping  things,  it 
seemed  as  if  he  knew  'em  all,  though  some  folks  did 
think  he  spent  too  much  time  watching  'em,  for  the 
good  of  his  family." 

"  Why,  he  must  have  been  a  real  genius,  a  Thoreau 
sort  of  man,"  exclaimed  Esther,  who  had  been  listen- 
ing with  rapt  attention,  as  she  always  did  when  her 
grandfather  told  a  story.  "  Grandpa,  won't  you  show 
me  some  day  where  his  little  house  stood,  and  the 
tree  he  loaded  with  stones  to  fire  at  the  British  ? " 

"And  please  let  me  go,  too,"  said  Mr.  Hadley, 
glancing  at  the  girl,  and  catching  her  quick  respon- 


1/4  WHEAT   AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

sive    smile    at    her    grandfather ;    "  I    should    like    it 
immensely." 

"  Why,  to  be  sure,  I  should  like  it  myself,"  said 
Deacon  Saxon,  promptly ;  "  though  there  ain't  anything 
there  now  but  dirt  and  rocks.  And  I'll  take  you 
round  by  the  old  burying-ground  and  show  you  his 
grave,  and  the  grave  of  my  great-grandfather,  John 
Saxon,  that  was  killed  by  the  Indians,  if  you  want 
me  to." 

.  They  had  it  settled  in  another  minute,  with  Stella 
in  the  plan  too.  Mr.  Hadley  was  to  call  again  in  a 
few  days,  and  they  were  all  to  take  the  trip  together. 
And  then  the  young  man  stayed  a  little  longer,  not 
talking  of  his  ancestors  now,  but  of  things  more 
modern ;  of  Scotland  with  Stella ;  of  her  impressions 
of  New  England  with  Esther;  and  with  the  old 
gentleman  of  the  summer  home  in  a  neighboring 
town,  which  the  Hadleys  had  lately  purchased.  It 
seemed  he  had  ridden  over  from  there  to-day.  There 
was  no  chance  to  talk  with  Kate  of  anything.  She 
had  disappeared  long  ago. 

"  I'm  afraid  you'll  think  I've  inherited  the  staying 
qualities  of  my  great-great-grandfather,"  he  said, 
rising  at  last.  "  Really,  I  don't  wonder  he  found  it 
hard  to  get  away  from  here."  And  then  he  bowed 
himself  out  with  renewed  expressions  of  gratitude 


A    PAIR    OF    CALLS.  1/5 

for  the  information  he  had  received,  and  of  delight 
in  that  trip  that  was  coming. 

"  A  most  estimable  young  man,"  said  Ruel  Saxon, 
when  he  had  ridden  away. 

"  I  think  he's  the  most  agreeable  young  man  I 
ever  saw,"  said  Esther,  warmly,  and  Stella  added, 
"Quite  an  fait ;  but  I  mean  to  find  out  the  next  time 
he  comes  whether  he  really  knows  anything  about 
art." 

From  Mr.  Philip  Hadley  to  Miss  Katharine  Saxon 
was  a  far  cry,  but  the  latter  had  a  genius  for  supply- 
ing contrasts,  and  she  furnished  one  at  that  moment 
by  appearing  suddenly  at  the  door.  Aunt  Elsie,  who 
had  been  picking  raspberries  in  the  garden,  was  with 
her. 

"Well,  Katharine,"  exclaimed  her  brother,  hasten- 
ing to  meet  her,  "'pears  to  me  you're  getting  pretty 
smart  to  come  walking  all  the  way  from  your  house 
this  hot  day." 

"  I  always  had  the  name  of  being  smart,  Ruel," 
said  the  old  lady,  seating  herself,  and  proceeding 
with  much  vigor  to  use  a  feather  fan  made  of  a 
partridge  tail,  which  hung  at  her  belt;  "but  I  shouldn't 
have  taken  the  trouble  to  show  it  by  walking  up  here 
to-day  if  I  hadn't  had  an  errand.  Mary  'Liza  wants 
to  go  home  for  a  couple  o'  days  —  her  sister's  going 


176  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

to  get  married  —  and  I  s'pose  I  or'  to  have  somebody 
in  the  house  with  me.  Not  that  I'm  'fraid  of  any- 
thing," she  added,  "but  I  s'pose  there'd  be  a  terrible 
to-do  in  the  town  if  I  should  mind  my  own  business 
and  die  in  my  bed  some  night  without  putting  any- 
body to  any  trouble  about  it.  So  I  thought,  long  's 
you've  got  so  many  folks  up  here  just  now,  I'd  see 
if  one  of  the  girls  was  a  mind  to  come  down  and  stay 
with  me." 

She  had  been  facing  her  brother  as  she  talked,  but 
she  turned  toward  Esther  with  the  last  words. 

The  girl's  face  lighted  with  an  instant  pleasure. 
"  Let  me  come,  Aunt  Katharine,"  she  said.  "  I  should 
like  to,  dearly." 

There  was  a  gleam  of  satisfaction  in  Aunt  Katha- 
rine's eyes.  "  I'd  be  much  obleeged  to  you  to  do  it," 
she  said  promptly. 

"But  Aunt  Katharine,"  exclaimed  Aunt  Elsie,  "don't 
you  think  you'd  better  come  here  and  stay  with  us? 
We  should  like  to  have  you,  and  it's  a  long  time  since 
you  slept  in  your  old  room." 

"  I  don't  care  anything  particular  about  old  rooms," 
said  Miss  Saxon.  "  I'm  beholden  to  you,  Elsie ;  but 
I'd  rather  be  in  my  own  house,  long 's  I  can  have  some- 
body with  me." 

"  I  s'pose  you've  got  Solomon  Ridgeway  there  yet," 


A    PAIR    OF    CALLS.  177 

observed  her  brother,  maliciously.  "  You  don't  seem  to 
count  much  on  him,  but  mebbe  you're  afraid  of  robbers, 
with  all  his  jewellery  in  the  house." 

She  took  no  notice  of  the  sarcasm.  "  Solomon's 
been  gone  'most  a  week,"  she  said.  "Took  a  notion 
he  wanted  to  be  back  at  the  farm  again." 

"  So  he's  gone  back  to  the  poor'us,  has  he  ? "  said 
the  old  gentleman.  "  Well,  it's  the  place  for  him,  poor 
afflicted  cretur ! " 

She  threw  up  her  head  with  the  quick  impatient 
motion.  "  Dreadful  'flicted,  Ruel,"  she  said.  "  He's  a 
leetle  the  happiest  man  I  know." 

"Hm,"  grunted  her  brother;  "happy  because  he 
hain't  got  sense  enough  to  know  his  own  situation.  He 
thinks  he's  rich,  when  all  he's  got  wouldn't  buy  him  a 
week's  victuals  and  a  suit  o'  clothes." 

Miss  Saxon's  eyes  narrowed  to  the  hawk-like  expres- 
sion which  was  common  in  her  controversies  with  her 
brother.  "  Oh,  he's  crazy,  of  course,"  she  said,  with  an 
inexpressible  dryness  in  her  voice ;  "  thinks  he's  rich 
when  he's  poor!  But  you  didn't  call  Squire  Ethan 
crazy  when  he  had  so  much  money  he  didn't  know 
what  to  do  with  it,  and  was  so  'fraid  he'd  come  to  want 
that  he  dassn't  give  a  cent  of  it  away,  or  let  his  own 
folks  have  enough  to  live  on." 

"  I   ain't  excusing  Squire  Ethan,"  said  the  deacon, 


1/8  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

bridling.  "  He  made  a  god  of  his  money,  and  he'll  be 
held  responsible  for  it.  But  Solomon  Ridgeway  ain't 
half  witted.  He's  been  crack-brained  for  the  last  forty 
years,  and  you  know  it." 

The  coolness  of  her  manner  increased  with  his  rising 
heat.  "Oh,  Solomon's  daft,  Ruel,"  she  said  in  her 
politest  manner.  "  We  won't  argy  about  that.  A  man 
must  be  daft  that  takes  his  wife's  death  so  hard  it  eeny 
most  kills  him,  and  he  stays  single  all  the  rest  of  his 
life.  A  man  that  had  full  sense  would  be  courting 
some  other  woman  inside  a  year." 

The  deacon's  eyes  kindled.  "You  talk  like  one  of 
the  foolish  women,  Katharine,"  he  said  sharply.  "  A 
man  ain't  compelled  to  stay  single  all  the  rest  of  his 
days  because  the  Lord's  seen  fit  to  take  away  his  wife. 
The  Bible  says  it  ain't  good  for  man  to  be  alone,  and 
'whoso  findeth  a  wife  findeth  a  good  thing.' ' 

She  laughed  her  thin  mocking  laugh.  "  And  the 
more  he  has  of  'em  the  better,  I  s'pose!  You  don't 
happen  to  remember,  do  you,  any  place  where  it  says 
she  that  finds  a  husband  finds  a  good  thing  ? " 

Apparently  the  exact  verse  was  not  at  hand,  but 
Ruel  Saxon  was  prepared  without  it.  "  There  are 
some  things  that  folks  with  common  sense  are  s'posed 
to  know  without  being  told,"  he  said  tartly. 

The  words  had  come  so  fast  from  both  sides  that 


A    PAIR    OF    CALLS.  179 

even  Aunt  Elsie  had  not  been  able  to  interpose  till  this 
moment.  She  seized  the  pause  now  with  hurrying 
eagerness.  "Aunt  Katharine,"  she  said,  "here  you 
are  sitting  all  this  time  with  your  bonnet  on.  You 
must  take  it  off  and  stay  to  supper  with  us." 

The    old    woman    rose     and     untied     the     strings. 
"Thank  ye  kindly,  Elsie,"  she  said;  "I  b'lieve  I  will." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

A    GLIMPSE    FROM    THE    INSIDE. 

IN  the  cool  of  the  day  Aunt  Katharine  and  Esther 
walked  together  across  the  fields  to  the  little  house 
on  the  county  road.  The  sunset  was  throbbing  itself 
out  above  the  hills  in  a  glory  of  crimson  and  gold, 
and  the  girl's  face  seemed  to  have  caught  the  shin- 
ing as  she  moved  tranquilly  toward  it. 

In  the  doorway  of  the  barn  Tom  and  Kate  watched 
them  go,  and  exchanged  comments  with  their  usual 
frankness.  It  was  their  favorite  place  for  discussion 
—  that  and  the  wood-pile  —  and  few  were  the  sub- 
jects of  current  interest  which  did  not  receive  a  toss- 
ing back  and  forth  at  their  hands  when  the  day's 
work  was  done. 

"That's  an  uncommon  queer  thing  for  Aunt  Kath- 
arine to  do,"  observed  Tom.  "  When  she's  been  left 
alone  before  she's  always  got  one  of  the  Riley  girls 
to  stay  there  and  paid  her  for  doing  it.  She  must 
have  taken  a  shine  to  Esther.  Maybe  she  thinks  she 
can  work  her  round  to  some  of  her  notions." 

1 80 


A    GLIMPSE    FROM    THE    INSIDE.  l8l 

Kate  shook  her  head.  "  Esther  isn't  her  sort  of 
person  at  all,"  she  said.  "  Aunt  Katharine  would  take 
somebody  that's  strong-minded  like  herself  if  she 
wanted  a  follower  in  those  things." 

Tom  flicked  a  kernel  of  corn  at  a  swallow  that 
swooped  down  from  a  beam  above  his  head,  and 
remarked  carelessly,  "  Maybe  strong-minded  folks 
had  rather  have  those  that  ain't  so  strong-minded  to 
work  on." 

There  was  something  in  this  that  gave  a  passing 
uneasiness  to  the  look  in  Kate's  black  eyes.  She 
was  silent  a  moment,  then  said  with  emphasis,  "Well, 
I'll  risk  Esther  Northmore ; "  and  a  minute  later,  oddly 
enough,  she  was  talking  of  Morton  Elwell,  and  won- 
dering what  he  found  to  do  now  that  wheat  harvest 
and  haying  were  over  at  home. 

"  If  he's  out  of  a  job  I  wish  he'd  come  round  this 
way,"  observed  Tom.  "We  need  another  hand  in 
our  meadow,  and  we'd  set  him  to  work  right  off." 

"And  supply  him  with  a  scythe  to  work  with,  I 
suppose,"  said  Kate,  scornfully.  "  I  imagine  Mort 
Elwell !  He  rides  a  mowing  machine  when  he  cuts 
grass." 

"Well,  he  couldn't  ride  it  in  our  meadow,"  retorted 
Tom.  "  There  isn't  a  Hoosier  on  top  of  the  ground 
that  could  do  it.  I  don't  care  how  smart  he  is." 


l82  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

(He  had  been  tantalized  at  frequent  intervals  ever 
since  Kate's  coming  by  accounts  of  Morton  Elwell's 
smartness.)  "  A  scythe  is  the  only  thing  that'll 
work  in  a  place  like  that." 

"  Out  our  way  they  wouldn't  have  such  a  place," 
said  Kate,  loftily.  "  They'd  put  in  tile  and  drain  it, 
if  they  were  going  to  use  the  ground  at  all." 

"  A  nice  job  they'd  have  of  it,"  grunted  Tom ;  and 
then  he  remarked  incidentally :  "  I  heard  Esther  tell 
Stella  the  other  day  that  our  meadow  was  the  pret- 
tiest place  she  ever  saw.  They  were  sitting  by  the 
brook,  and  she  said  it  made  her  sick  to  think  how 
your  creek  at  home  looked,  all  so  brown  and  muddy." 

This  was  a  manifest  digression,  but  Tom  had  a 
genius  for  that,  and  a  quotation  from  Esther  bearing 
on  the  attractions  of  New  England  was  a  missile  he 
never  failed  to  use,  when  it  came  to  his  hand  in 
discussion  with  Kate.  She  looked  annoyed  for  a 
minute.  There  was  no  denying  that  the  creek  at 
home  was  a  sorry-looking  stream  beside  that  beau- 
tiful meadow  brook,  with  its  clear  pebbly  bottom. 
But  she  recovered  herself  in  another  moment. 

"Oh,  your  brook  is  pretty,  of  course,"  she  said 
graciously,  "but  it's  all  in  the  way  you  look  at  it. 
For  my  part  I  don't  mind  having  a  good  rich  brown 
in  the  color  of  ours.  It  shows  that  the  land  isn't 


A    GLIMPSE    FROM    THE    INSIDE.  183 

all   rocks;    that   there's   something   in   it   soft    enough 
to  wash  down." 

Tom  whistled.  He  was  used  to  Kate  now,  and  never 
really  expected  to  have  the  last  word.  Returning 
to  the  subject  of  the  hay-making,  he  remarked : 
"  Grandfather  was  down  there  for  a  while  this  after- 
noon, to  show  us  how  fast  we  ought  to  work,  I  sup- 
pose—  you  ought  to  have  seen  him  bring  down  the 
swath — but  he  couldn't  keep  it  up  very  long,  and 
made  an  errand  to  the  house  ;  a  good  thing  he  did, 
too,  or  he'd  have  missed  that  call  that  tickled  him 
so.  I  say,  that  fellow  must  have  been  a  regular 
swell  for  all  you  girls  to  be  so  taken  with  him." 

"  Who  said  /  was  taken  with  him  ?  "  demanded  Kate. 
"  It  was  his  horse  I  fell  in  love  with." 

"  Well,  the  others  were,  if  you  weren't,"  persisted 
Tom.  "  Esther  seemed  to  think  she  never  saw  such 
a  young  man." 

"She's  seen  some  that  are  a  good  deal  nicer,"  said 
Kate,  with  emphasis,  and  then  she  added  rather  irri- 
tably :  "  I  shouldn't  think  a  fellow  could  have  much 
to  do  who  spends  his  time  running  round  to  find  out 
what  his  great-great-grandfather  did.  For  my  part  I 
don't  take  much  stock  in  that  sort  of  thing." 

And  on  this  point  they  were  in  perfect  agreement. 
Tom,  like  Kate,  had  no  great  use  for  ancestors. 


184  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

Meanwhile  the  shadows  lengthened,  and  the  two 
slow  figures  moving  across  the  fields  reached  the  end 
of  their  walk.  That  the  days  to  be  spent  with  Aunt 
Katharine  would  seem  rather  long,  Esther  fully  ex- 
pected. Yet  she  had  wanted  them.  She  had  been 
honest  when  she  said  to  Stella  at  parting :  "  Don't 
pity  me.  I  really  like  it !  "  and  she  wondered  at  the 
incredulous  look  with  which  her  cousin  had  regarded 
her.  With  all  there  was  of  taste  and  artistic  feeling 
in  common  between  these  two,  there  was  something 
in  Esther,  something  of  seriousness  and  warmth,  which 
the  other  partly  lacked. 

Possibly  the  girl  expected  —  as  Stella  had  warned 
her  —  that  the  old  woman  would  at  once  mount  the 
hobby,  which  she  was  supposed  to  keep  always  sad- 
dled and  bridled,  as  soon  as  they  were  fairly  in  the 
house  together,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact,  Aunt  Katharine 
did  nothing  of  the  kind.  She  talked,  as  they  sat  in 
the  twilight,  of  Esther  herself,  of  her  work  at  school, 
and  the  things  she  enjoyed  most  in  this  summer  visit, 
and  then  of  Esther's  mother,  recalling  incidents  of 
her  childhood,  and  speaking  of  her  ways  and  traits 
with  an  appreciation  that  filled  the  girl  with  surprise 
and  delight. 

"  Your  mother  might  have  done  something  out  of 
the  common,"  she  said  as  she  ended.  "  She  was  made 


A    GLIMPSE    FROM    THE    INSIDE.  185 

larger  than  most  folks,  and  with  all  her  soft  ways, 
she  had  more  courage.  She  might  have  had  a  great 
influence.  I  always  said  it." 

"  Mother  has  a  good  deal  of  influence  now,"  said 
Esther,  smiling.  "  Father  says  there  isn't  a  lady  in 
our  town  whose  opinions  count  for  as  much  as  hers." 

"Of  course,  of  course,"  said  the  old  woman,  with  a 
note  of  impatience  creeping  into  her  voice ;  "  and  the 
upshot  of  it  is  that  she  makes  old  ways  that  are 
wrong  seem  right,  because  she,  with  all  her  faculties, 
manages  to  make  the  best  of  'em.  She  might  have 
done  better  than  that,  if  she'd  seen." 

And  then  she  rose  suddenly  and  lighted  a  lamp. 
"  I  always  have  a  chapter  before  I  go  to  bed,"  she 
said.  "  You  might  read  it  to-night." 

Esther  was  surprised.  She  had  somehow  gained 
the  impression,  in  Aunt  Katharine's  talks  with  her 
brother,  that  she  held  the  scriptures  rather  lightly, 
but  apparently  this  was  wrong.  "  What  shall  I  read  ? " 
she  asked,  going  to  the  stand  on  which  lay  the  Bible, 
a  large  and  very  old  one. 

"  Read  me  that  chapter  about  Judith,"  she  said, 
"  how  she  delivered  her  people  out  of  the  hand  of 
Holofernes,  and  all  the  city  stood  up  and  blessed  her." 

Esther  sat  for  a  moment  with  a  puzzled  face,  her 
finger  between  the  leaves  of  the  book.  "  Is  that  in 


1 86  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

Judges  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a  vague  remembrance  of  a 
prophetess  who  led  Israel  to  battle. 

The  old  woman  lifted  her  eyebrows.  "  Oh,  that  is  in 
the  Apocrypha,"  she  said.  "Well,  if  you  don't  know 
about  Judith  you  mustn't  begin  at  the  end  of  her  story. 
Read  me  about  Deborah ;  that's  a  good  place." 

There  was  no  sweeter  sleep  under  the  stars  that 
night  than  came  to  Esther.  She  had  thought  with 
some  foreboding  of  a  feather  bed,  but  it  was  the  best 
of  hair  mattresses  that  Aunt  Katharine  provided. 
Even  the  high-post  bedstead,  with  draperies  of  an- 
cient pattern,  which  she  had  really  hoped  for,  was 
wanting.  There  was  nothing  to  prevent  the  air  which 
came  through  the  wide  east  window,  full  of  woodsy 
odors  and  the  droning  of  happy  insects,  from  coming 
straight  to  her  pillow. 

There  was  indeed  nothing  in  the  room  to  recall 
the  fashions  of  the  past  except  the  coverlet,  wrought 
in  mazy  figures  tufted  of  crocheting  cotton,  and  a 
round  silk  pincushion  mounted  on  a  standard  of 
glass,  which  standard  suggested  former  service  as 
part  of  a  lamp.  Aunt  Katharine  had  as  little  care 
to  preserve  the  customs  of  her  foremothers  as  their 
ways  of  thinking.  She  had  told  the  girl  to  rise  when 
she  felt  like  it ;  but  in  the  early  morning  Esther  found 
herself  wide  awake,  and  the  sound  of  stirring  below 
brought  her  quickly  to  her  feet. 


A    GLIMPSE    FROM    THE    INSIDE.  l8/ 

Aunt  Katharine  was  busy  about  the  stove  when 
she  entered  the  kitchen,  and  the  sight  of  her  niece 
in  her  clean  work-apron  evidently  pleased  her.  They 
took  a  cup  of  tea  with  a  fresh  egg  and  a  slice  of 
toast  at  the  kitchen  table,  and  Esther  tried  to  recall 
her  dream  of  the  night  before  for  the  entertainment 
of  the  other.  "  It  must  have  been  reading  about 
Deborah  that  put  it  into  my  head,"  she  said.  "  I 
thought  I  was  living  all  by  myself  in  a  house 
that  was  under  a  great  oak  tree,  and  all  sorts  of  peo- 
ple were  coming  to  me  on  all  sorts  of  errands,  and 
finally  I  was  going  out  with  a  great  company  of 
them  to  battle,  but  I  don't  know  what  the  battle  was 
about,  or  how  it  came  out,"  she  ended  lightly.  "  I 
think  the  dream  must  have  broken  off  when  I  heard 
you  moving  about  down  here." 

"  Dreams  are  queer  things,"  said  Aunt  Katharine, 
who  had  been  listening  with  attention. 

"  Of  course  I  don't  believe  in  them,"  Esther  made 
haste  to  say,  "but  Aunt  Milly  always  insisted  that 
the  first  dream  you  had  when  you  slept  in  a  strange 
place  meant  something.  I'm  sure  it  meant  something 
to  sleep  in  such  a  lovely  room,  and  rest  as  sweetly 
as  I  did,"  she  added,  with  an  affectionate  smile  at  the 
old  lady. 

Miss  Katharine  Saxon  had  long   prided   herself   on 


1 88  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

a  complete  indifference  to  any  blandishments  of  words 
or  manner  on  the  part  of  her  fellow-creatures.  It 
wasn't  what  people  said,  nor  how  they  said  it,  but 
the  principles  they  lived  up  to,  that  constituted  a 
claim  to  her  regard,  as  she  often  declared;  but  she 
fell  a  victim  as  easily  as  scores  had  done  before  her 
to  the  pretty  tactful  ways  of  Esther  Northmore  and 
her  gift  for  saying  pleasant  things.  Not  in  years 
had  she  been  as  warm,  as  open,  and  confiding  as 
during  that  visit.  In  the  entertainment  of  her  niece 
she  made  no  mistake.  She  let  her  help  in  the  house- 
work and  watched  with  pleasure  while  she  darned  a 
tablecloth.  She  was  studying  the  girl,  with  genuine 
liking  to  guide  the  study. 

And  Esther,  for  her  part,  was  watching  her  Aunt 
Katharine  with  growing  regard  and  sympathy.  It 
was  a  surprise  at  first  to  note  the  solicitude  with 
which  she  inquired  after  the  sick  child  of  Patrick 
Riley,  the  Irishman  who  carried  on  her  farm,  and 
came  night  and  morning  to  attend  to  her  chores ; 
and  the  girl  was  not  prepared  for  the  almost  mater- 
nal interest  with  which  the  old  woman  looked  after 
the  dumb  creatures  on  her  place. 

On  the  subject  which  she  was  known  to  have  most 
at  heart  —  the  wrongs  of  her  sex  —  she  said  nothing 
for  a  while,  and  Esther  was  too  mindful  of  those  old 


A    GLIMPSE    FROM    THE    INSIDE.  189 

griefs  in  her  life  to  provoke  the  theme.  It  came 
casually,  the  second  day,  as  they  sat  seeding  rai- 
sins in  the  kitchen.  A  boy  had  brought  a  pail  of 
berries  to  the  door,  but  she  refused  them.  An  hour 
later  a  girl  came  with  a  similar  errand,  and  without 
hesitating  she  made  the  purchase. 

"  I  hope  you  didn't  change  your  mind  on  my 
account,"  said  Esther,  when  the  child  was  gone, 
remembering  apologetically  something  she  had  said  in 
the  interval  about  her  own  liking  for  huckleberries. 
"With  all  the  fruit  you  have  I'm  sure  we  didn't  need 
them." 

Miss  Saxon  smiled.  "I  didn't  change  my  mind," 
she  said.  "  I  thought  some  girl  would  be  along,  and 
so  I  waited." 

The  boy's  face  had  looked  eager,  and  Esther  felt 
rather  sorry  for  him.  "  Don't  you  suppose  he  needed 
the  money  as  much  as  she  did  ? "  she  asked  rather 
timidly. 

"  Mebbe  he  needed  it  more,"  said  Aunt  Katharine. 
"  The  Billingses  are  worse  off  than  the  Esteys,  but 
that  ain't  the  p'int.  It's  a  good  thing  for  a  girl 
to  be  earning  money.  It's  worth  something  to  her 
to  make  a  few  cents,  and  know  it's  her  own.  That's 
what  the  girls  need  more  'n  anything  else,  and  I 
always  help  'em  every  chance  I  get." 


IQO  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

Esther  pondered  for  a  minute  without  speaking. 
The  old  woman's  eyes  had  taken  on  a  look  of  deep 
seriousness.  "That's  the  root  of  all  the  trouble," 
she  said  almost  fiercely,  "this  notion  that  the  women 
must  be  forever  dependent  on  the  men,  and  take 
what's  given  'em  and  be  thankful,  without  trying  to 
do  for  themselves.  I  tell  you  it  was  never  meant 
that  one  half  of  the  world  should  hang  on  the  other 
half,  and  look  to  'em  for  the  shelter  over  their  heads, 
and  the  food  they  eat,  and  the  clothes  they  wear. 
It  degrades  'em  both." 

Esther  stopped  seeding  raisins  and  looked  at  her 
aunt  in  astonishment.  An  arraignment  of  the  exist- 
ing order  of  things  such  as  she  had  not  heard  before 
was  suggested  here.  Perhaps  the  very  blankness  of 
her  expression  appealed  more  than  any  protest  to 
the  old  woman.  The  defiance  went  out  of  her  voice, 
and  it  was  almost  a  pleading  tone  in  which  she 
went  on :  — 

"  Don't  you  see  what  comes  of  it  ?  Don't  you  see  ? 
It  makes  the  girls  think  they  must  get  married  so  's 
to  have  a  home  and  somebody  to  support  'em,  and 
then  they  plan  'n'  contrive  —  they  V  their  mothers 
with  'em  —  how  to  catch  a  husband."  She  shut  her 
lips  hard,  as  if  her  loathing  of  the  thing  were  too 
U;reat  for  utterance,  then  went  on  :  "  But  small  blame 


A    GLIMPSE    FROM    THE    INSIDE.  IQI 

to  'em,  I  .  say,  if  that's  the  only  thing  a  woman's  fit 
tor ;  small  blame  to  'em  if  they  won't  let  her  choose 
her  work  for  herself  and  live  by  it,  without  calling 
shame  on  her  for  doing  it.  It's  a  little  better  now  — 
thank  God  and  the  women  that  have  been  brave 
enough  to  go  ahead  in  the  face  of  it!  —  but  I've 
seen  the  day  when  an  old  maid  was  looked  on  as 
something  almost  out  of  nature.  '  Let  a  girl  dance 
in  the  pig's  trough,'  if  her  younger  sister  gets  mar- 
ried before  her.  Let  her  own  she's  disgraced,  and  be 
done  with  it.  That's  the  old  saying,  and  the  spirit 
of  it  ain't  all  dead  yet.  It  never  will  be  till  women 
are  as  free  as  men  to  do  whatever  thing  is  in  'em  to 
do,  and  make  the  most  of  it." 

Her  face  had  grown  white  as  she  talked,  and  the 
color  had  paled  a  little  even  in  Esther's.  "  Oh,"  she 
said,  "  I've  thought  of  that,  too.  I've  hated  it  when 
people  talked  as  if  there  was  nothing  for  girls  but 
to  get  married."  The  color  came  back  with  a  quick 
flush  as  she  added :  "  I'd  rather  die  than  be  schem- 
ing about  that  myself ;  but  what  can  you  do  ?  Boys 
always  talk  about  the  work  they  mean  to  follow. 
People  would  think  there  was  something  wrong  with 
them,  if  they  didn't ;  but  if  girls  say  anything  —  I 
did  try  once  to  talk  about  what  I  could  do  to  earn 
my  own  living,  but  father  acted  as  if  I  was  somehow 


IQ2  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

reflecting  on  him,  and  mother  —  though  I'm  sure  she 
understood  me  better  —  seemed  worried  and  troubled." 

"That's  it,  that's  it!"  said  Aunt  Katharine,  bitterly. 
"  Even  those  that  say  a  woman's  got  a  right  to  choose, 
say  under  their  breath  that  she'll  never  be  happy  if 
it's  anything  but  getting  married.  I  tell  you  it's  rind- 
ing your  own  work  and  doing  it  that  makes  people 
happy,  and  that's  a  law  for  women  as  much  as  men." 

"  But  if  you  knew  your  work !  "  said  Esther,  pite- 
ously.  "  It  seems  to  me  there  are  very  few  girls  who 
have  anything  special  they  can  do." 

"That's  no  more  true  of  girls  than  'tis  of  boys," 
said  Aunt  Katharine.  "We  should  find  something 
for  one  as  well  as  for  the  other,  something  they  could 
work  at,  if  we  settled  it  once  for  all  that  they  had 
the  same  right  and  need.  But  we've  got  to  start 
with  that  idea  right  from  the  beginning." 

After  that,  during  the  time  which  remained  of  the 
visit,  the  talk  came  often  into  the  circle  of  this 
thought.  Sometimes  Miss  Saxon  talked  of  the  wrongs 
of  women,  of  their  inequality  before  the  law,  and  of 
the  tyranny  of  men,  with  a  bitterness  before  which 
the  girl  shrank,  but  the  very  vehemence  of  the 
other's  belief  carried  her  with  it,  and  through  it  all 
one  thing  grew  more  and  more  clear  to  her.  It  was 
not  hatred  of  men,  but  love  of  her  own  sex,  which  lay 


A    GLIMPSE    FROM    THE    INSIDE.  1 03 

at  the  bottom  of  Katharine  Saxon's  defiance  of  the 
social  order.  The  longing  to  help  women,  to  lift 
them  into  what  seemed  to  her  a  larger,  freer  living, 
had  laid  hold  of  her  wholly,  and  held  her  in  the  white 
heat  of  its  consuming  passion. 

Once,  when  she  had  been  speaking  of  the  struggle 
which  lay  before  any  woman  confronted  with  the 
problem  of  supporting  a  family,  Esther  said  softly : 
"  Grandpa  told  me  about  you  one  night,  Aunt  Kath- 
arine ;  how  you  gave  up  everything  and  worked  so 
hard  to  help  your  sister  when  she  came  home  with 
her  children.  I  thought  that  was  grand." 

The  old  woman  did  not  speak  for  a  moment,  then 
she  said,  with  a  singular  lack  of  emotion  in  her  voice : 
"  Poor  Nancy !  Yes,  I  thought  then  'twas  my  duty 
to  do  what  I  did,  and  mebbe  'twas ;  but  sometimes 
I've  thought  —  Nancy  and  her  girls  were  only  a  han'- 
ful  out  of  the  many — sometimes  I've  thought  mebbe 
I  might  have  done  more  good  if  I'd  been  fighting 
for  'em  all.  I  gave  the  best  fifteen  years  of  my  life 
to  that  old  spinning-wheel,  and  scarcely  looked  out 
of  my  corner."  And  then  the  lines  of  her  face  stif- 
fened as  she  added  :  "  But  I  had  my  reward.  I  was 
saved  from  marrying  —  marrying  Levi  Dodge." 

The  scorn  in  her  voice  as  she  said  the  last  words 
was  indescribable.  For  a  while  neither  of  them 


194  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

spoke.  Then  Esther  said,  leaning  toward  the  other, 
her  heart  in  her  eyes,  and  her  breath  coming  quick, 
"  Aunt  Katharine,  wouldn't  you  have  women  marry 
at  all?" 

She  threw  up  her  head  with  the  quick,  impatient 
movement  which  Esther  had  come  to  know  so  well. 
"They  might  all  marry  and  welcome,"  she  said, — 
"it's  the  Lord's  way  to  preserve  the  race, — if  only 
we  could  get  rid  of  the  notions  that  folks  have  joined 
onto  it  to  spoil  it." 

And  then  the  note  that  was  not  of  defiance,  but 
pleading,  came  back  to  her  voice,  as  she  added  :  "  But 
I'd  have  some  of  the  women  that  see  stay  free  from 
it  till  we've  worked  this  thing  out,  and  made  a  fair 
chance  for  those  that  come  after  us ;  I'd  have  'em 
show  that  the  world  has  some  interests  for  women 
outside  of  their  own  homes,  and  some  work  they  can 
do  besides  waiting  on  their  husbands  and  children ; 
I'd  have  'em  show  that  a  woman  ain't  afraid  nor 
ashamed  to  walk  without  leaning;  and  I'd  have  'em 
keep  their  eyes  open  to  see  what's  going  on.  I'd 
have  'em  hold  themselves  clear  of  the  danger  of 
being  blinded  even  by  love  to  the  things  that  need 
doing." 

No  doubt  there  was  much  that  was  wholly  vague 
to  Esther  Northmore  in  the  vision  of  service  which 


A    GLIMPSE    FROM    THE    INSIDE.  1 95 

lay  before  the  mind  of  Katharine  Saxon.  But  the 
thought  of  some  renunciation  for  the  sake  of  others 
—  some  work,  unselfish  and  lasting  —  what  generous 
young  soul  has  not  at  moments  felt  the  thrill  of  it? 
Their  eyes  met  in  a  glow  of  sympathy,  if  not  of  full 
understanding,  and  the  clock  ticked  solemnly  in  a 
stillness  which,  for  a  minute,  neither  of  them  could 
break. 

It  was  a  light  step  at  the  open  door  which  suddenly 
drew  their  attention.  Kate  was  coming  briskly  up 
the  walk  with  a  letter  in  her  hand. 

"  It's  from  home,"  she  said,  as  Esther  rose  to  meet 
her,  "and  I  thought  you  ought  to  have  it" 

She  noticed  the  look  of  exaltation  on  her  sister's 
face,  and  something  she  had  never  seen  before  in 
Aunt  Katharine's.  Her  efforts  at  conversation  met 
with  little  response.  She  was  conscious  of  some  at- 
mosphere surrounding  these  two  which  she  herself 
could  not  penetrate,  and  she  was  glad  to  slip  away 
at  the  end  of  a  very  short  call. 

"They  must  have  been  talking  about  something 
awfully  serious,"  she  said  to  Tom  afterward.  "They 
looked  as  solemn  as  a  pair  of  owls.  I  hope  that 
girl  of  Aunt  Katharine's  will  come  home  when  she 
said  she  would.  For  my  part,  I  think  Esther's  stayed 
there  long  enough." 


CHAPTER   X. 

SOME    BITS    OF   POETRY. 

AUNT  KATHARINE'S  maid  of  all  work  did  not 
outstay  her  leave  of  absence,  and  at  evening  of 
the  third  day  Esther  came  home  to  her  grandfather's. 
She  insisted  that  she  had  had  a  good  time,  and  strongly 
resented  being  regarded  as  a  martyr  who  had  sacrificed 
herself  to  a  painful  cause. 

"Why,  Aunt  Katharine  made  it  delightful  for  me," 
she  said,  "  and  I  liked  her  better  and  better  all  the  time 
I  stayed." 

"  I  hope  she  didn't  win  you  over  to  all  her  notions, 
especially  that  prejudice  against  getting  married,"  said 
Stella,  with  a  laugh. 

"  She  certainly  didn't  argue  me  out  of  the  belief  that 
life  might  be  worth  living  if  one  happened  to  stay 
single,"  returned  Esther,  and  though  she  said  it  lightly, 
the  look  in  her  eyes  was  sober. 

But  they  did  not  talk  long  of  Aunt  Katharine. 
There  was  something  of  livelier  interest  to  be  dis- 
cussed now.  It  had  been  the  plan  from  the  first  that 

196 


SOME    BITS    OF    POETRY.  1 97 

• 

sometime  during  the  summer  they  should  visit  Boston 
with  Stella.  The  summer  was  wearing  away,  and  it 
was  time  for  the  plan  to  mature.  Moreover,  a  letter 
had  come  from  a  cousin,  who  had  a  cottage  for  the 
season  at  Nahant,  inviting  them  all  to  spend  a  week 
with  her  there. 

Kate  was  in  raptures,  and  Stella  was  mapping  out 
a  fortnight's  touring  which  should  include  a  circuit  of 
pleasures,  Boston  and  the  seashore,  with  Concord  and 
Cambridge,  and  perhaps  Old  Plymouth,  thrown  in. 
It  was  all  delightful  to  think  of.  For  the  next  few 
days  their  minds  were  full  of  it,  and  in  the  midst  came 
that  pleasant  trip  which  had  been  planned  with  Mr. 
Philip  Hadley. 

He  was  punctual  to  his  engagement,  and  appeared 
early  on  the  appointed  afternoon.  But  he  was  not 
on  horseback  now.  He  was  in  a  stylish  top  buggy, 
behind  a  pair  of  high-stepping  bays.  Ruel  Saxon  had 
planned  to  take  the  two  girls  with  him  in  the  family 
carriage  —  Kate  had  other  plans  for  the  afternoon  — 
but  Mr.  Hadley's  buggy  changed  all  that. 

"  If  one  of  the  young  ladies  will  ride  with  me  I  shall 
be  delighted,"  he  said,  glancing  with  a  smile  at  Esther, 
who  happened  to  be  the  only  one  of  them  in  the  room 
at  the  moment. 

She  returned  the  smile,  then  turning  to  her  grand- 


IQ8  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

father,  settled  the  arrangement  in  just  the  right  way. 
"Grandfather,"  she  said,  "we  must  let  Stella  go  with 
Mr.  Hadley.  That  will  be  nice  for  them  both,  and 
then  you  and  I  will  go  together.  I  don't  want  to  be 
selfish,  but  I  shan't  be  here  much  longer,  you  know, 
and  must  make  the  most  of  my  chances  for  riding 
with  you." 

The  old  gentleman  looked  gratified,  and  Mr.  Hadley 
smiled  again.  As  for  Stella,  there  was  no  doubt  of  her 
satisfaction  with  the  arrangement  when  she  came  in 
a  minute  later.  She  was  looking  exceedingly  stylish 
in  a  pale  green  dress,  with  hat  and  parasol  to  match, 
and  quite  the  figure  to  sit  with  Mr.  Hadley  behind 
those  handsome  bays. 

It  was  a  perfect  afternoon,  and  a  light  rain  the  night 
before  had  laid  the  dust  in  the  country  roads.  It  was 
the  least  frequented  of  them  all,  a  track  which  was 
hardly  more  than  a  cart-path  which  led  by  the  old 
Bridgewood  place,  and  they  tied  their  horses  to  a 
rail  fence  and  climbed  on  foot  to  the  top  of  the  sharp 
knoll  on  which  the  house  once  had  stood.  There  was 
no  trace  of  it  now.  The  walls  on  which  their  eccentric 
owner  had  once  hung  his  verses  in  the  wind  had  long 
ago  dropped  away,  and  the  very  stones  of  its  founda- 
tion had  been  removed  out  of  their  place. 

Even  the  tree  which  had  been  part  of  his  "  battery  " 


SOME    BITS    OF    POETRY.  199 

—  if  indeed  it  survived  the  experience  —  could  not  be 
distinguished  now  in  the  thick  grove  of  maple  and 
chestnut  and  birch  which  covered  the  place.  Only 
the  view  from  the  hilltop  remained  unchanged,  and 
this,  as  Stella  declared,  sitting  breathless  at  the  end 
of  the  climb,  justified  the  owner's  choice  of  a  dwelling- 
spot,  and  must  have  inspired  his  muse. 

From  there  to  the  old  bury  ing-ground  was  by  a 
winding  way,  for  Ruel  Saxon  was  in  historic  mood, 
and  guided  his  party  past  the  lake  haunted  by  the 
memory  of  conjuring  Jane,  who  had  been  drowned 
there  as  a  witch  long,  long  ago;  past  the  meadow 
where  a  little  party  of  the  early  settlers,  busy  with 
making  hay  one  summer  afternoon,  had  fallen  victims 
to  the  tomahawks  of  the  Indians  ;  and  past  the  rock 
where  Whitefield,  shut  out  from  the  churches,  had 
preached  one  Sabbath  day  to  a  crowd  of  spell-bound 
and  weeping  people. 

Sometimes  he  drew  Dobbin  to  the  side  of  the  road, 
and  giving  the  buggy  space  beside  him,  paused  while  he 
set  out  the  event  which  the  scene  called  up  with  vivid 
description  and  trenchant  comment.  He  was  no  mean 
chaperon  in  guiding  others  over  the  track  of  the  past, 
and  this  afternoon  he  was  at  his  best. 

The  old  burying-ground  lay  on  the  edge  of  a  pine 
wood,  on  the  outskirts  of  the  village.  It  was  more 


2OO  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

than  half  a  century  since  the  sod  had  been  disturbed, 
and  grass  and  daisies  possessed  the  paths  which  once 
lay  plain  between  mounds  which  years  had  smoothed 
to  almost  the  common  level.  There  had  been  no  en- 
croachment of  a  growing  town  upon  its  borders  to 
break  its  quiet  with  the  noise  and  hurry  of  a  strenuous 
life.  It  lay,  an  utter  quietness,  in  the  beauty  of  the 
summer  afternoon,  a  spot  in  which  it  was  impossible 
not  to  feel  that  a  great  peace  must  have  infolded 
those  whose  bodies  had  mouldered  to  dust  in  its 
tranquil  keeping. 

Yet  perhaps  Esther  was  the  only  one  of  the  little 
company  who  felt  the  pensive  influence  of  the  place, 
and  she  had  never  stood  before  in  an  old  New  Eng- 
land burying-ground.  Even  she  did  not  keep  it  long, 
for  Ruel  Saxon  was  full  of  a  bustling  eagerness  to  find 
the  graves  they  had  come  to  seek,  and  the  quaintness 
of  the  mortuary  devices  and  inscriptions  on  the  low 
gray  stones  soon  claimed  her  whole  attention. 

"  Your  great-great-grandfather  made  up  a  good 
many  of  these  epitaphs,"  observed  the  old  gentleman 
to  Mr.  Hadley.  "  He  was  a  wonderful  hand  for  that. 
Folks  were  always  going  to  him  when  their  relations 
died  —  those  that  wanted  anything  except  verses  of 
scripture  under  the  names.  Here's  his  own  grave 
now  !  "  he  exclaimed,  pausing  in  his  rapid  searching, 


SOME    BITS    OF    POETRY.  2OI 

and  not  a  little  pleased  with  himself  that  he  had 
so  quickly  found  a  spot  which  he  had  not  seen  in 
many  years :  — 

"  '  Sacred  to  the  memory  of 

JABEZ   BRIDGEWOOD. 

Born  Aug.  i,  1735  —  died  Nov.  12,  1810.' 

"That's  his  stone,  and  no  mistake." 

Mr.  Hadley  was  bending  over  it  now.  Below  the 
inscription  which  the  old  man  had  read  were  four  lines 
which  the  creeping  moss  had  almost  obliterated.  He 
took  a  knife  from  his  pocket  and  scraped  a  few 
words. 

"  Ah,"  he  said,  lifting  his  head,  "  there  is  evidently 
one  he  didn't  write  :  — 

"  ( Oh  Friends,  seek  not  his  merits  to  disclose, 
Nor  draw  his  frailties  from  their  dread  abode, 
(There  they  alike  in  trembling  hope  repose) 
The  bosom  of  his  Father  and  his  God.'  " 

"  No,"  said  Ruel  Saxon,  who  did  not  recognize  the 
slightly  changed  familiar  lines,  "  he  didn't  write  that. 
But  he  picked  it  out,  and  left  word  in  writing  to  have 
it  put  on  his  stone.  I  remember  hearing  my  grand- 
father talk  about  it.  Some  folks  thought  'twas  queer 
he  didn't  write  his  own  epitaph.  It  always  tickled 
him  so  when  he  got  a  chance  to  do  it  for  other 
folks." 


2O2  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

"Poor  man,"  said  Mr.  Hadley,  with  a  smile,  "it  was 
probably  his  only  chance  of  publication.  Think  what 
that  must  have  meant  to  him !  But  I'm  glad  he 
recognized  a  superior  poet.  It's  a  mark  of  great- 
ness." 

They  separated  a  little  now,  moving  about  among 
the  headstones,  and  reading,  as  they  could,  the  old 
inscriptions.  Some  of  them  were  provocative  of  an 
amusement  which  must  have  its  way  even  in  this 
hallowed  spot. 

There  was  one  which  ran  :  — 

"  Here  lies,  cut  down  like  unripe  fruit, 
Ye  fon  of  Mr.  Jonas  Boot, 
And  Mrs.  Jemima  Boot  his  wife  named  Jonathan." 

"  I  rather  hope  my  ancestor  didn't  write  that,"  said 
Mr.  Hadley.  Then,  noting  the  date  of  the  said  Jona- 
than's death,  1748,  he  added,  with  a  shake  of  his  head, 
"  But  he  might ;  it's  possible,  if  his  poetic  genius 
blossomed  early." 

There  was  another  close  by  which  Stella  was  read- 
ing now.  It  was  inscribed  to  a  girl  of  sixteen  :  — 

"  Too  good  for  earth,  God  in  His  love, 
Took  her  to  dwell  with  saints  above." 

"  Poor  little  thing  !  "  she  said,  under  her  breath.  "  I 
wonder  if  she  liked  living  with  the  saints  half  as  well 


SOME    BITS    OF    POETRY.  2O3 

as  with  her  own  girl  friends.      It's  to  be  hoped   that 
she  found  some  there." 

There  was  dignity  in  one  over  which  Esther  was 
bending  now :  — 

"  Let  not  ye  dead  forgotten  lye, 
Left  men  forget  that  they  muft  die  ; " 

and  a  touch  of  real  tenderness  was  in  the  one  which 
stood  beside  it  under  the  name  of  a  little  child :  — 

"  She  faltered  by  the  wayside, 
And  the  angels  took  her  home." 

But  this,  which  came  next,  was  not  so  felicitous:  — 

"God  took  him  to  His  Heavenly  home, 
No  more  this  weary  world  to  roam." 

This,  to  a  babe  of  six  months,  certainly  indicated  a 
paucity  of  rhymes  on  the  part  of  the  composer,  and 
Mr.  Hadley  pointed  in  triumph  to  a  year  marked  on 
the  little  gray  slab  which  plainly  antedated  his 
ancestor. 

But  the  stone  which  by  the  consent  of  all  was 
pronounced  the  most  unique  was  inscribed  to  Keziah, 
a  "beloved  wife  who  put  on  immortality"  at  the  age 
of  thirty-five.  Below  the  name  and  date  was  carved 
an  emblem  suggestive  of  a  chrysalis,  with  the  words, 
"  Keziah  as  she  was ; "  and  under  this  appeared  the 


2O4  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

head  of  a  cherub,  with  the  wings  of  a  butterfly 
sprouting  from  its  swollen  cheeks,  and  the  words, 
"  Keziah  as  she  is." 

Stella  hovered  around  this  for  some  time  in  con- 
vulsed admiration.  "  I'm  so  glad  there  were  artists 
as  well  as  poets  in  those  days,"  she  said ;  and  then 
she  added,  with  a  levity  she  could  not  repress,  "  it 
reminds  one  for  all  the  world  of  the  advertisements, 
'  Before  and  after  taking.'  " 

There  was  another  erected  to  the  memory  of  a  wife 
which  called  forth  almost  as  much  admiration.  The 
virtues  of  the  deceased  were  set  forth  with  unusual 
fulness,  and  the  record  of  her  long  services  to  society, 
the  church,  and  her  family,  ended  with  the  words, 
"  She  lived  with  her  husband  sixty  years,  and  died  in 
the  hope  of  a  better  life." 

Even  Deacon  Saxon  chuckled  over  this,  and  then 
added,  "  I  don't  b'lieve  my  sister  Katharine  ever 
heard  of  that,  or  she'd  have  thrown  it  up  to  me  before 
this." 

It  was  queer  what  oddities  of  thought  and  expres- 
sion had  got  themselves  cut  in  some  of  these  stones, 
and  there  were  commonplaces  which  occurred  over 
and  over : — 

"  Friends  nor  physicians  could  not  save 
This  loving " 


SOME    BITS    OF    POETRY.  2O5 

Was  father,  mother,  husband,  the  needed  title  ? 
Alas,  all  were  easily  supplied,  and  then  followed  the 
inevitable  "from  the  grave." 

There  was  one  with  a  harsh  creditor  accent,  before 
which  light-hearted  readers  could  hardly  help  shrink- 
ing a  little :  — 

"  Death  is  a  debt  to  Nature  due, 
I've  paid  it  now,  and  so  must  you." 

But  there  was  another,  carved  more  than  once, 
which  might  well  cause  a  deeper  shudder.  It  ran :  — 

"  Beneath  this  stone  Death's  prisoner  lies, 
Ye  stone  shall  move,  ye  prisoner  rise, 
When  Jesus,  with  Almighty  word, 
Calls  his  dead  Saints  to  meet  their  Lord." 

"  Dreadful  theology,  don't  you  think?"  Mr.  Hadley 
said,  turning  with  a  little  shiver  to  the  girls,  and  their 
grandfather  added  his  assent  to  theirs  with  emphasis. 
"  Yes,  Jesus  hasn't  got  any  dead-  saints.  They  or'  to 
have  remembered  what  He  said  Himself,  that  God  is 
not  the  God  of  the  dead,  but  of  the  living." 

But  by  far  the  greater  number  of  these  ancient 
headstones  were  marked  with  texts  of  scripture,  and 
however  mirth  might  be  provoked  by  sentiment  or 
phrase  from  other  sources,  the  simple  dignity  of  the 
book  of  books  always  brought  back  seriousness  and 


2O6  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

reminded  on  what  word  the  hearts  of  men  had  leaned, 
through  the  long  generations,  to  endure  the  old,  old 
sorrow  of  death.  The  faith  of  the  fathers,  not  their 
fashions,  was  the  thought  which  one  must  bear  away 
in  the  end  from  such  a  spot. 

They  had  paused  longest  by  the  graves  of  Ruel 
Saxon's  people,  and  again  as  they  left  the  place  he 
lingered  for  a  moment  by  the  low  gray  line  of  stones. 
"They  were  God-fearing  men  and  women,  all  of 
them,"  he  said,  with  tender  reverence  in  his  voice ; 
then,  lifting  his  face,  he  added,  with  inexpressible 
pride  and  solemnity  :  — 

"  My  boast  is  not  that  I  deduce  my  birth 
From  loins  enthroned,  and  rulers  of  the  earth, 
But  higher  far  my  proud  pretensions  rise  — 
The  son  of  parents  passed  into  the  skies." 

That  was  the  last  word  spoken  before  they  let  down 
the  bars  in  the  old  stone  wall  and  made  their  way 
back  to  their  horses.  Possibly  the  young  man,  who 
was  so  anxious  to  establish  his  family  record,  may  have 
caught,  at  that  moment,  a  new  thought  of  ancestral 
honors. 

It  had  been  a  full  afternoon,  and  it  was  a  late  one 
when  they  reached  the  farmhouse.  Mr.  Hadley  would 
have  mounted  to  his  buggy  at  once  after  helping  Stella 
down,  but  the  deacon  interposed. 


SOME    BITS   OF    POETRY.  2O/ 

"Why,  it's  high  time  for  supper,"  he  said,  "and  you 
mustn't  drive  back  to  Hartridge  without  having  a  bite 
to  eat,  you  or  your  horses  either." 

"Of  course  not,"  said  Stella,  cordially.  "We  count 
on  your  staying  to  supper."  And  then  she  added 
archly,  "  I  really  think  you  ought,  for  the  sake  of  your 
great-great-grandfather." 

"Whom  your  great-great-grandmother  could  never 
get  rid  of?"  he  replied,  laughing.  "I'm  not  sure  but 
on  his  account  I  ought  to  go,  to  convince  you  that  his 
descendants  at  least  can  turn  their  backs  on  pleasure." 

But  he  did  not  insist  on  doing  it,  and  it  is  extremely 
doubtful  whether  Jabez  Bridgewood  ever  enjoyed  a 
meal  under  the  old  roof  more  than  Philip  Hadley  en- 
joyed the  one  that  followed.  The  fact  was,  both  Stella 
and  her  mother  had  foreseen  that  the  delays  and  di- 
gressions of  the  old  gentleman  in  showing  his  party 
around  would  consume  the  afternoon,  and  bring  the 
young  man  back  at  about  this  time.  They  had  con- 
ferred carefully  as  to  the  setting  of  the  table  in  the  best 
old-fashioned  china,  with  a  pretty  mingling  of  Stella's 
hand-painted  pieces;  the  menu  had  been  settled  to  a 
nicety  in  advance,  and  the  delicate  French  salad,  which 
Mr.  Hadley  pronounced  the  best  he  had  ever  tasted, 
had  been  compounded  by  Stella  herself  before  leaving 
the  house. 


2O8  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

Tom  and  Kate,  who  were  just  in  from  a  tramp  to 
a  distant  pasture,  had  their  places  with  the  others. 
Tom  had  objected  at  first  to  sitting  down  with  "the 
nabob,"  as  he  called  their  guest,  but  Kate's  persua- 
sions and  his  own  curiosity  finally  overcame  him. 

The  meal  was  a  social  one.  The  girls  talked  of  their 
intended  outing,  and  Mr.  Hadley,  who  was  much  inter- 
ested, made  some  capital  suggestions. 

Then  a  question  or  two  drew  him  out  in  regard  to 
his  own  summer,  and  he  talked  quite  charmingly  of  a 
yachting  trip  in  July.  There  was  a  plan  for  the  White 
Mountains  early  in  September.  He  had  succeeded 
better  than  usual  in  killing  time  this  summer,  he  said ; 
to  which  he  added  gracefully,  that  he  believed  no  other 
day  of  it  had  been  as  pleasant  as  this  which  was  just 
ending. 

This  brought  them  back  to  the  excursion  of  the 
afternoon,  and  Esther  in  particular  grew  quite  eloquent 
over  the  delights  of  it. 

"•That's  what  it  is  to  live  in  an  old  country,"  she  said 
wistfully.  "  You  feel  as  if  you  belonged  to  the  past  as 
well  as  the  present  when  you  stand  in  the  places  where 
the  things  you've  read  of  really  happened.  I  think 
it's  beautiful  to  have  historic  associations." 

There  was  an  approving  murmur  over  this  sentiment, 
but  Kate  did  not  join  in  it.  There  was  no  mistaking 


SOME    BITS    OF    POETRY.  2(X) 

its  implied  suggestion  of  a  point  in  which  New  England 
had  the  advantage  over  her  native  state.  She  might 
possibly  have  let  it  pass  if  Tom  had  not  had  the  indis- 
cretion at  that  moment  to  press  her  foot  under  the 
table.  Up  to  this  point  her  part  in  the  conversation 
had  been  mostly  questions,  but  now  she  advanced  an 
opinion  boldly. 

"  Well,  I  must  say  I  never  wanted  to  live  in  an  old 
country  on  that  account,"  she  said.  "  I  remember  when 
mother  used  to  read  Child's  History  of  England  to 
us,  I  was  always  glad  that  our  country  began  later,  and 
that  we  didn't  have  those  cruel  times,  when  people 
were  beheaded  for  nothing,  and  princes'  eyes  put  out 
by  their  wicked  uncles,  in  our  history  at  all.  Those 
things  you've  been  hearing  about  this  afternoon  — 
there  wasn't  anything  very  beautiful  about  some  of 
them.  That  poor  old  thing  they  drowned  —  I  don't 
suppose  she  was  any  more  a  witch  than  I  am.  And 
that  rock  where  Whitefield  preached  —  it  was  a  mean 
bigoted  thing  to  keep  him  out  of  the  churches,  and  I 
should  think  good  people  would  be  ashamed  every  time 
they  looked  at  the  rock." 

There  was  silence  for  a  minute  when  she  ended. 
Then  Mr.  Hadley  said,  with  a  smile,  "  In  other  words, 
if  you  have  historic  associations  at  all,  you  want  those 
of  the  very  best  sort."  To  which  he  added,  lifting  his 


2IO  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

eyebrows  a  trifle,  "  I  presume  you  wouldn't  object  to 
Bunker  Hill  and  Lexington  !  " 

Kate  took  a  swallow  of  water  before  .speaking. 
Then  she  said  with  dignity :  "I  have  never  regarded 
Bunker  Hill  and  Lexington  as  local  affairs.  I  think 
they  belong  to  the  whole  country ! " 

Mr.  Hadley  made  her  a  bow  across  the  table. 
"  Capital !  "  he  said.  "  I  surrender." 

"If  you  knew  how  my  cousin  Kate  stands  up  for 
everything  connected  with  her  own  part  of  the  coun- 
try, you'd  surrender  in  advance  any  attempt  to  im- 
press her  with  the  beauties  of  ours,"  said  Stella, 
laughing.  "  Talk  of  loyalty  to  one's  home !  " 

"Well,  you  certainly  have  a  remarkably  fine  section 
of  country  out  your  way,"  said  Mr.  Hadley,  graciously. 
"  My  father  was  there  buying  grain  one  summer,  and 
I  remember  he  came  back  perfectly  enthusiastic  over 
everything  except  the  ague,  which  he  brought  home 
with  him,  and  had  hard  work  to  get  rid  of.  I  sup- 
pose you'll  admit  that  you  do  have  some  chills  and 
fever  lying  round  in  your  low  lands." 

"Oh,  people  have  to  have  something,"  said  Kate, 
carelessly  "but  ague  isn't  the  worst  thing  that  ever 
was.  People  very  seldom  die  of  it,  and  it's  really  the 
most  interesting  disease  in  the  world.  I  could  give 
you  a  list  as  long  as  my  arm  of  the  ingenious  ways 


SOME    BITS    OF    POETRY.  211 

country  people  have  of  curing  Tt ;  and  some  of  them 
are  perfectly  fascinating,  they're  so  queer.  You  ought 
to  hear  my  father  talk  about  ague." 

There  was  an  explosion  of  laughter  at  this. 
"  Kate,"  cried  Stella,  "  you're  as  bad  as  the  old 
woman  who  was  challenged  to  find  a  good  quality 
in  his  Satanic  majesty,  and  immediately  said  there 
was  nothing  like  his  perseverance.  But  really,  if  one 
must  discuss  chills  and  fever,  don't  you  think  they're 
a  little,  just  a  little  plebeian  ?  " 

"Oh,"  said  Kate,  "anything's  plebeian  —  if  you've 
a  mind  to  call  it  so  —  that  keeps  people  moping  and 
ailing.  But  there  are  lots  of  things  more  '  ornary ' 
than  chills.  It  was  when  they  were  all  coming  down 
with  them,  don't  you  know,  that  Mark  Tapley  found 
the  first  chance  he  ever  had  to  be  'jolly'  when  'twas 
really  a  credit  to  him !  " 

The  laughter  took  a  note  of  applause  now  from 
Mr.  Hadley.  "  Miss  Saxon,"  he  exclaimed,  turning  to 
Stella,  "  don't  let's  press  her  any  further ;  she's  posi- 
tively making  a  classic  of  the  ague.  If  she  says 
much  more,  we  shall  all  be  wanting  to  go  out  there 
for  the  express  purpose  of  getting  it." 

"  But  ten  chances  to  one  you  wouldn't  get  it,  if 
you  did,"  said  Kate.  "  As  a  matter  of  fact,  we  don't 
have  much  of  it  nowadays.  It  was  part  of  the 


212  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

newness  of  the  country,  and  draining  the  land  has 
carried  most  of  it  off." 

There  was  nothing  to  be  said  to  this.  She  was  in 
possession  of  the  field  at  both  ends,  and  they  re- 
treated from  the  subject  with  a  last  volley  of  laughter. 

After  supper  Tom  told  Kate  confidentially  that  she 
had  "  done  'em  up  in  good  style.  Though  I'll  war- 
rant," he  added  severely,  "that  you'd  brag  as  much 
as  anybody  if  you  had  some  of  the  old  places  we 
have  out  your  way."  And  then  he  observed  that  the 
nabob  wasn't  half  bad.  He  didn't  know  as  'twas 
strange  that  the  girls  had  taken  such  a  fancy  to  him. 

As  it  happened,  Esther  was  thinking  of  him  at  that 
very  moment.  She  had  just  finished  reading  a  letter 
from  Morton  Elwell,  —  a  letter  written,  as  he  hap- 
pened to  mention,  before  five  one  morning  of  a  day 
that  was  to  be  full  of  work.  How  well  she  knew 
that  it  was  one  of  many  —  days  that  followed  each 
other  without  break  or  pause  save  for  the  Sabbath's 
rest !  And  then  she  thought  of  Mr.  Philip  Hadley 
with  his  summer  devices  for  "killing  time."  She 
wondered  why  life  should  be  so  easy  for  some,  so 
strenuous  for  others ;  and,  for  the  first  time,  she 
thought  of  it  with  a  sort  of  resentment  that  Morton 
Elwell  should  work  so  hard  and  have  no  summer 
pleasuring. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

AN    OUTING    AND    AN    INVITATION. 

THE  next  week  came  that  never-to-be-forgotten 
outing  which  gave  the  Northmore  girls  their  first 
glimpse  of  Boston,  and  their  first  acquaintance  with  the 
sea.  Till  the  morning  they  started  there  was  no  talk 
of  anything  else.  Stella,  who  knew  better  than  her 
cousins  what  occasion  might  demand  of  dress  in  a  styl- 
ish watering-place,  bent  all  her  artistic  skill  to  the 
revising  of  garments,  and  even  Kate  and  Esther,  whose 
wardrobes  were  mostly  new,  found  some  chance  for 
retouchings,  some  need  of  new  laces  and  ribbons. 

For  the  first  time  since  their  coming,  their  grand- 
father really  felt  himself  a  little  neglected.  Occasion- 
ally, as  he  passed  through  the  room  where  the  three 
girls  sat  busy  with  sewing  and  the  eager  discussion  of 
styles  and  colors,  he  murmured  solemnly,  "  Vanity  of 
vanities,  all  is  vanity  ;"  and  he  not  only  prayed  feelingly 
at  family  devotions  that  the  young  of  his  household 
might  learn  to  adorn  themselves  with  "the  ornament 
of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit,"  but  he  selected  once  for 

213 


214  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

his  morning  reading  a  chapter  in  which  warnings  were 
prjonounced  against  those  who  set  their  hearts  on 
"  changeable  suits  of  apparel,  and  mantles,  and  wim- 
ples, and  crisping-pins."  However,  he  was  as  anxious 
as  any  one  that  his  granddaughters  should  enjoy  them- 
selves, and  his  good-will  toward  this  particular  excursion 
was  sufficiently  indicated  by  the  trifle  which  he  quietly 
added  to  the  pin-money  of  each  when  they  started  off. 

It  does  not  concern  our  story,  and  would  take  too 
long  to  tell  all  the  sights  and  happenings  of  the  days 
that  followed.  Never  did  two  more  interested  or  more 
appreciative  girls  than  Kate  and  Esther  Northmore 
walk  about  the  streets  of  Boston,  or  take  in  the  mean- 
ings and  memories  which  it  held  in  its  keeping,  and  in 
its  dear  vicinity. 

At  Cambridge,  as  they  walked  about  the  grounds  of 
Harvard,  whom  should  they  meet  but  Mr.  Philip  H ad- 
ley  ?  A  remarkable  coincidence  it  seemed  at  the  time, 
though  Kate  remembered  later  that  Stella  had  set  out 
with  tolerable  distinctness  the  time  when  they  expected 
to  be  there,  with  other  details  of  the  Boston  visit,  that 
night  at  the  farm. 

After  that,  he  had  part  in  all  their  excursions,  and  a 
charming  addition  he  made  to  the  party.  Stella  was 
a  good  chaperon,  but  he  was  even  better,  for  he  had 
the  entree  of  a  dozen  places  which  they  could  not  have 


AN    OUTING    AND    AN    INVITATION.  21 5 

entered  without  him,  and  whether  it  was  acquaintance, 
or  a  liberal  use  of  money,  never  were  more  gracious 
attentions  bestowed  on  a  party  of  sight-seers.  He  was 
really  a  delightful  companion ;  a  good  talker,  a  good 
listener,  and  so  perfectly  at  leisure  that  he  was  ready 
to  act  on  the  slightest  hint  of  anything  that  interested 
the  others. 

It  was  a  suggestion  of  Stella's,  and  a  lucky  one,  as 
she  congratulated  herself,  which  led  to  the  most  unex- 
pected incident  of  the  whole  visit.  They  had  been 
talking,  she  and  Mr.  Hadley,  of  Copleys,  as  they 
walked  through  the  Boston  art  gallery,  and  he  had 
mentioned  suddenly  that  there  was  one  in  his  own 
home ;  after  which  came  the  quick  invitation  to  make 
a  visit  that  afternoon  to  the  house  on  Beacon  Street. 

The  others  accepted  with  no  special  emotion,  but 
Stella  was  radiant,  and,  Bostonian  as  she  called  her- 
self, it  was  she  who  felt  most  curiosity  when  they  stood, 
a  few  hours  later,  before  the  door  which  bore  the  name 
of  Hadley,  in  the  long  row  of  brown  stone  fronts.  The 
house  was  closed  for  the  summer,  and  Mr.  Hadley  had 
made  no  attempt  to  open  any  rooms  except  the  library, 
but  this !  It  occupied  all  one  side  of  the  long  hall  on 
the  second  floor ;  a  room  filled  with  books  and  pictures 
and  marbles.  "  A  perfect  place,"  as  Stella  declared, 
clasping  her  hands  in  a  transport  of  artistic  satisfaction. 


2l6  WHEAT   AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

There  were  books  on  books.  Indeed,  the  Northmore 
girls,  accustomed  as  they  were  to  a  fair  library  at  home, 
had  not  realized  that  so  many  books  were  ever  gathered 
in  one  room,  outside  of  public  places ;  and  there  were 
pictures  beside  pictures.  There  was  a  Corot  at  which 
the  heir  of  the  house  had  not  even  hinted ;  and  the 
Copley  hung  beside  a  celebrated  Millais.  Whether  the 
young  man  most  enjoyed  the  keen  appreciation  of 
Stella,  or  the  frank,  delighted  wonder  of  the  others,  is 
a  question.  He  did  the  honors  of  the  place  with  the 
easy  indifference  of  one  to  the  manner  born,  and  it 
seemed  a  mere  matter  of  course,  when  he  called  the 
attention  of  his  guests  to  one  choice  possession  after 
another,  to  rare  old  copies  of  books  and  de  luxe 
editions. 

Stella's  delight  seemed  to  mount  with  every  moment, 
but  Esther  grew  so  quiet  at  last  that  the  others  rallied 
her  on  her  soberness.  She  flushed  when  Stella  de- 
clared that  she  looked  almost  melancholy,  and  said, 
with  a  glance  at  the  shelves,  that  one  should  not  be 
expected  to  be  merry  in  such  company. 

But,  truth  to  tell,  her  thoughts  had  company  just 
then  that  no  other  knew.  There  had  come  back  to 
her,  oddly  perhaps,  the  memory  of  a  day  when  Morton 
Elwell  showed  her  the  shelf  of  books  in  his  little  room. 
It  was  not  a  handsome  shelf — he  had  made  it  him- 


AN   OUTING    AND    AN    INVITATION.  21  / 

self ;  and  the  books  he  had  bought,  one  after  another, 
with  savings  which  meant  wearing  the  old  hat  and  the 
patch  on  the  boots.  How  proud  he  was  of  those  books ! 
There  was  no  easy  indifference  in  his  manner  as  he 
stood  before  them  with  his  shining  face,  and  his  hand 
had  almost  trembled  as  he  passed  it  caressingly  over 
their  plain  cloth  bindings. 

The  servant  in  charge  of  the  house  presently  an- 
swered Mr.  Hadley's  ring  by  bringing  up  a  tray  with 
the  daintiest  of  lunches,  and  he  himself  set  steaming 
the  samovar  which  stood  in  a  cosey  corner.  He  could 
preside  over  pretty  china  almost  as  gracefully  as  Stella 
herself,  when  it  came  to  that.  Altogether  it  was  a 
delectable  hour  which  they  spent  in  that  library,  and 
the  girls  all  said  so  in  their  various  fashions  when  they 
parted  with  Mr.  Hadley.  Esther,  perhaps,  said  it 
with  more  feeling  than  either  of  the  others.  She  felt 
as  if  she  had  been  part  of  something  she  had  dreamed 
of  all  her  life,  and  yet  —  it  was  almost  provoking,  too  — 
that  old,  insistent  memory  had  half  spoiled  the  dream. 

From  Boston  to  Nahant  was  the  move  next  on  their 
programme.  The  place  was  in  its  glory  then,  one  of  the 
prettiest  of  the  seaside  resorts;  and  for  a  week  they 
did  everything  that  anybody  does  at  the  shore. 

Oh,  the  delight  of  it  all !  The  pleasure  of  sitting  on 
the  level  sands  and  watching  the  tides  creep  in  and 


2l8  WHEAT   AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

out;  the  transports  and  trepidations  of  the  first  dip 
into  the  great  salt  bath,  and  the  unimagined  joy  of 
flying  over  the  bright  blue  water  under  sails  stretched 
by  a  glorious  breeze !  If  anything  could  have  made 
Kate  waver  in  her  conviction  that  her  native  state  was 
best  favored  of  all  in  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
land,  it  would  have  been,  at  moments,  the  thought  of 
its  distance  from  the  sea ;  and  it  was  a  long,  devouring 
look,  almost  a  tearful  look,  that  she  sent  back  at  the 
blue  expanse  when  the  hour  came  to  leave  it. 

The  outing  had  been  a  complete  success,  from  be- 
ginning to  end.  They  were  too  tired  to  talk  of  it,  as 
they  rode  on  the  train  back  to  Esterly.  To  look  mu- 
singly out  of  the  windows  was  all  that  any  of  them 
cared  to  do.  But  words  came  fast  again  as  they  rode 
back  to  the  farm  with  their  grandfather,  who  was  wait- 
ing for  them,  of  course,  at  the  depot ;  and  faster  still 
when,  with  Tom  and  Aunt  Elsie  as  listeners,  they 
were  all  seated*  at  the  family  supper. 

"  We've  had  more  fun  than  we  expected,  positively 
more,"  Kate  exclaimed,  "and  I  shall  never  take  a  bit 
of  stock  again  in  that  idea  that  thinking  about  things 
beforehand  is  better  than  actually  having  them.  It 
must  have  been  started  by  somebody  who  was  too  old 
to  enjoy  things." 

And   her    grandfather,   after  grunting  a  little   over 


AN    OUTING    AND    AN    INVITATION.  2 19 

the  last  clause,  and  calling  attention  to  the  fact  that 
he,  at  least,  had  never  seen  the  time  when  he  could 
say  of  any  rational  enjoyments,  "  I  have  no  pleasure 
in  them,"  was  inclined  to  agree  with  the  sentiment. 

"  Things  don't  turn  out  just  as  you  expect  them  to, 
of  course,"  he  remarked  reflectively.  "  I  never  knew 
it  to  happen  that  a  body  didn't  miss  something  of 
what  he'd  counted  on,  but  then,  on  the  other  hand, 
something's  sure  to  turn  up  that  you  warn't  looking 
for,  and  you  must  set  one  over  against  the  other. 
There  are  worse  things  than  old  age  to  keep  folks 
from  enjoying  themselves,"  he  added  acutely,  "and 
one  of  them  is  being  so  taken  up  with  yourself  that 
you  feel  abused  if  your  own  plans  don't  work  out  to 
a  T.  For  my  part,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  there  was 
more  pleasure  to  be1  got  out  of  surprises,  anyhow." 

The  allusion  to  unexpected  things  of  course  sug- 
gested the  meeting  with  Mr.  Hadley,  and  then  fol- 
lowed a  full  account  of  all  his  subsequent  attentions. 
The  old  gentleman  was  delighted,  and  wished  he 
could  have  been  with  them  when  they  made  that 
visit  to  the  house  on  Beacon  Street,  a  wish  which  it 
is  doubtful  whether  the  girls  fully  shared.  They  did  not 
demur  to  it,  however,  nor  yet  to  his  evident  impres- 
sion that  the  young  man's  gratitude  for  the  light  which 
had  been  thrown  on  the  history  of  his  forefathers  had 


22O  WHEAT   AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

led  him  to  extend  these  pleasant  courtesies  to  his, 
Ruel  Saxon's,  descendants. 

Tom  was  the  first  to  suggest  the  doubt.  "  Say, 
did  the  nabob  talk  all  the  time  about  his  ances- 
tors ? "  he  demanded  of  Kate,  as  they  sat  on  the 
wood-pile  after  supper,  a  perch  to  which  she  de- 
clared she  was  glad  to  come  back  after  her  fort- 
night's absence. 

"  Of  course  he  didn't,"  she  replied.  "  I  don't 
think  he  spoke  of  them  once,  except  when  he  showed 
us  some  of  their  portraits  in  the  library." 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  Tom,  kicking  a  birch  stick 
down  from  the  pile,  and  sending  it  with  accurate  aim 
against  the  instrument  which  he  called  a  "  saw- 
horse  "  and  she  called  a  "  saw-buck."  Then,  look- 
ing her  in  the  eyes,  he  asked  coolly,  "  Which  of  'em 
is  it,  Stelle  or  Esther?" 

"  Both  of  'em,  I  reckon,"  said  Kate,  with  equal 
coolness. 

"It'll  be  one  of  them  in  particular  if  it  keeps  on 
like  this,"  said  Tom,  "and  I'll  bet  a  shilling  it'll 
be  Esther." 

'For  once  she  did  not  take  up  the  wager.  It  had 
been  thrown  down  between  them  so  often  during 
the  summer  that  nothing  had  prevented  their  both 
becoming  bankrupt  except  the  standing  quarrel  as 


AN    OUTING    AND    AN    INVITATION.  221 

to  the  amount  involved,  Tom  maintaining  steadily 
that  it  was  sixteen  and  two-third  cents,  one  sixth  of 
a  dollar,  and  she  insisting  with  equal  obstinacy  that 
it  was  twelve  and  a  half.  This  time  she  let  it  pass. 

"Tom,  you're  a  goose,"  she  said  severely;  and 
then  she  added :  "  I  suppose  you  don't  think  it's 
possible  that  he's  at  all  impressed  with  me.  I'd  like 
to  have  you  know  that  we  had  a  great  deal  of  con- 
versation. Why  "  —  she  threw  a  shade  of  weariness 
into  her  voice  —  "I  had  to  go  over  most  of  the 
ground  that  I've  been  going  over  with  you  ever 
since  I  came.  We  had  r  up,  of  course.  I  really 
could  not  help  speaking  of  it.  One  would  think  there 
was  something  actually  profane  about  that  poor  little 
letter,  the  way  the  Bostonians  avoid  using  it.  And 
when  I'd  fairly  made  out  my  case,  and  he  couldn't 
deny  it,  he  had  to  pretend,  just  as  you  do,  that  we 
Westerners  make  too  much  of  it,  when  we  don't  at 
all ;  and  as  if  that  was  any  answer !  " 

"The  way  you  do,"  observed  Tom,  sympathetically, 
"  when  I  show  you  that  you  folks  mix  up  the  wills 
and  shalls  so  there's  no  telling  which  from  t'other, 
and  you  get  back  at  me  by  declaring  that  we  say 
'  hadn't  ought '  and  a  few  things  of  that  sort" 

And  then  they  fell  to  it  again  in  the  old  fashion, 
Kate  protesting  the  absolute  incapacity  of  the  aver- 


222  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

age  mind  for  grasping  the  fine  distinctions  between 
those  two  auxiliaries,  which,  thank  Heaven,  have  still 
not  wholly  lost  their  special  uses  on  our  Eastern 
coast,  and  finally,  after  various  thrusts  at  local  usage, 
ending  with  the  charge  that  New  Englanders  more 
than  dwellers  in  the  West  are  guilty  of  dropping 
from  their  speech  the  final  g,  a  point  on  which  the 
impartial  listener  might  possibly  have  thought  that 
she  had  a  little  the  best  of  it. 

And  while  the  good-natured  dispute  went  on, 
another  and  more  important  conversation  was  being 
held  in  the  house  on  the  old  county  road,  where 
Esther  sat  with  Aunt  Katharine  in  the  growing  twi- 
light. She  had  slipped  away  from  her  grandfather's 
as  soon  as  supper  was  over  to  make  the  call.  There 
had  been  so  many  of  these  calls  since  her  three  days' 
visit  there  that  no  one  was  surprised  at  them  any 
more  or  offered  to  accompany  her.  It  was  recog- 
nized by  all  that  there  was  something  of  genuine 
intimacy  between  these  two,  an  intimacy  at  which 
every  one  smiled  except  Kate,  whose  dislike  of  her 
lonely  old  relative  seemed  to  increase  with  her  sister's 
fondness. 

Aunt  Katharine  had  heard  the  click  of  the  gate 
as  the  girl  came  up,  and  for  once  she  had  hobbled 
down  the  walk  to  greet  a  guest.  There  was  almost 


AN   OUTING    AND    AN    INVITATION.  223 

a  hungry  look  in  her  eyes  as  they  searched  the 
bright  young  face,  and  her  brother  had  not  inquired 
more  eagerly  than  she  for  the  particulars  of  the  trip. 
And  Esther  went  over  it  all,  with  a  cheery  pleasure 
that  warmed  her  listener's  heart,  talking  as  she 
might  have  talked  to  her  mother  of  the  things  she 
had  seen  and  felt,  gayly,  without  reserve,  and  sure 
always  of  the  interest  of  the  other. 

It  was  a  rare  hour  to  Aunt  Katharine.  Not  in 
years  had  any  fresh  young  life  brought  its  happi- 
ness so  willingly  to  her,  and  her  heart  responded 
with  a  glow  and  fulness  like  the  sudden  out-leaping 
of  a  brook  in  the  spring. 

At  the  last  Esther  had  said,  a  little  wistfully,  that 
she  was  glad  these  days  had  come  so  late  in  this 
summer  visit.  It  was  almost  ended  now,  but  its 
climax  of  pleasure  had  been  reached,  and  the  mem- 
ory of  it  would  be  a  joy  forever. 

"  Do  you  have  to  go  back,  both  of  you,  the  first 
of  September  ? "  Aunt  Katharine  asked  suddenly. 
"  Why  couldn't  you  stay  a  while  longer  ?  They  don't 
need  you  at  home  for  anything  special,  do  they  ? " 

The  idea  took  definite  shape  as  she  caught  the 
outlines  of  it,  and  her  keen  eyes  kindled.  "  You 
like  things  here  better  'n  Kate  does,  and  you're  older. 
S'pose  you  should  stay  at  the  farm  and  see  what  a 


224  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

New  England  fall  is  like  —  you  can't  know  your 
mother's  country  without  knowing  that  —  and  then 
spend  the  winter  in  Boston  with  Stella.  She'd  like 
it,  and  she'd  let  you  into  a  lot  of  things  you  want 
to  know  about.  I  never  cared  much  for  pictures 
and  music  and  such,  but  you  do ;  and  you  or'  to 
have  a  taste  of  'em  while  you're  young." 

She  paused,  and  Esther  said  with  a  gasp :  "  Oh, 
that  would  be  glorious,  glorious !  But  the  expense 
of  it,  Aunt  Katharine !  Father  couldn't  possibly 
afford  to  let  me  do  it,  and  I  couldn't  pay  my  own 
way,  you  know,  as  Stella  does." 

"  I  wasn't  counting  on  your  father's  bearing  the 
expense,  nor  you  either,"  said  Miss  Saxon,  dryly.  "I 
guess  I  could  afford  to  do  that  much  for  you,  and  a 
few  other  things  too,  if  you  took  a  notion  to  'em." 
And  then  a  tenderer  note  crept  into  her  voice  as  she 
added,  "  I  missed  most  of  the  things  I  wanted  when  I 
was  a  girl,  and  I'd  like  to  make  sure  of  it  that  you 
fared  better." 

There  was  no  talking  for  a  minute  or  two  after 
that.  The  delights  that  seemed  to  open  before 
Esther  through  the  avenues  of  this  plan  almost  took 
her  breath  away,  and  the  generosity  that  proposed  it 
made  her  eyes  dim  with  tears.  It  was  Aunt  Katha- 
rine, not  she,  who  could  discuss  it  coolly,  and  to  the 


AN    OUTING    AND    AN    INVITATION.  225 

old  woman  the  thought  seemed  to  grow  every  moment 
dearer.  There  were  friends  of  hers  in  Boston  —  not 
Stella's  friends,  she  added,  with  a  peculiar  smile  — 
people  who  would  be  good  to  Esther  for  her  sake. 
Perhaps  Esther  would  come  to  feel  toward  them  as 
she  herself  did,  and  then  she  looked  at  the  girl  for 
a  moment  as  if  taking  her  measure  with  reference  to 
something  larger  than  she  knew. 

The  dew  was  falling  and  the  whippoorwills  were 
calling  across  the  hills  through  the  twilight  that  had- 
deepened  almost  into  night  when  Esther  rose  at  last 
to  go  home.  She  had  never  kissed  Aunt  Katharine 
before,  but  the  old  woman  drew  her  face  down  to 
hers  and  held  it  for  an  instant  as  she  bade  her  good 
night.  Then  she  said  almost  brusquely  :  — 

"  You'd  better  hurry  home  now.  They'll  think  I've 
lost  my  wits  entirely  to  be  keeping  you  so  long. 
And  you've  got  that  letter  to  write  to  your  mother. 
Tell  her  everything,  and  be  sure  it  goes  in  the 
morning." 

And  Esther,  with  feet  almost  as  light  as  the  wings 
of   the   night   birds,   hurried   across   the   fields   to   tell 
the  surprising   news   to   the   two   circles  —  the   house- 
hold at  home,  and  the  one  at  her  grandfather's. 
Q 


CHAPTER  XII. 

WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK. 

IT  was  a  long  letter  that  went  to  Mrs.  Northmore 
the  next  morning.  Indeed,  there  were  three ;  for 
Stella,  in  her  delight  over  the  prospect  of  keeping 
Esther,  filled  a  sheet  with  an  ecstatic  picture  of  the 
joys  which  a  winter  in  Boston  would  surely  furnish, 
and  Ruel  Saxon  supplied  another,  impressing  upon 
his  daughter  his  own  deep  satisfaction  in  the  thought 
of  having  one  of  her  children  with  him  a  little 
longer,  and  adding  tenderly  that  since  she  herself 
went  out  of  the  home  so  long  ago,  no  young  pres- 
ence there  had  been  as  dear  and  comforting  to  him 
as  this  of  Esther. 

He  had  been  amazed  when  the  girl  brought  the 
news  of  Aunt  Katharine's  proposal,  and  certainly 
nothing  in  his  sister's  behavior  for  years  had  pleased 
him  as  much.  He  visited  her  promptly  the  next 
morning  to  assure  her  of  his  approval,  and  congratu- 
late her  (as  he  told  Aunt  Elsie)  on  having  for  once 
acted  with  such  eminent  good  sense.  But  either  he 

226 


WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK.  22? 

did  not  do  it  in  the  most  tactful  manner,  or  he 
found  his  sister  in  an  unfortunate  mood,  for  it  ap- 
peared from  his  own  account  of  it  that,  after  the 
brightest  preliminaries,  she  had  proceeded  to  air  her 
most  obnoxious  views ;  views  which,  as  he  pensively 
declared,  he  had  smitten  hip  and  thigh  and  put 
utterly  to  rout  more  than  once ;  and  he  ended  his 
report  of  the  interview  with  an  expression  of  irri- 
tated wonder  as  to  how  so  amiable  a  girl  as  Esther 
Northmore  ever  came  to  be  a  favorite  with  her  Aunt 
Katharine  Saxon. 

But  there  was  one  person  who  found  it  even 
harder  than  he  to  understand  the  partiality.  This 
was  Kate;  and  in  her  the  wonder  was  mingled  with 
a  sort  of  resentment  which  she  could  not  throw  off. 
She  alone  of  the  household  had  not  rejoiced  when 
her  sister  came  in  that  night  with  the  announcement 
of  the  invitation  which  seemed  to  her  such  great 
good  fortune.  There  was  no  touch  of  envy  in  it. 
To  the  exclamation  of  all,  "  If  Kate  could  only  stay, 
too ! "  she  had  responded  with  perfect  honesty,  "  I 
don't  want  to.  I've  had  a  splendid  time  here;  but 
I'm  about  ready  to  go  home  now,  and  I  wouldn't 
stay  away  longer  than  we  planned  if  I  could." 

It  was  none  of  her  business  perhaps,  —  she  said  it 
to  herself  again  and  again,  —  but  she  did  not  like 


228  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

the  growing  influence  which  Aunt  Katharine  was 
gaining  over  Esther.  It  did  not  matter  so  much 
while  the  intimacy  was  thought  to  be  only  passing, 
and  going  home  lay  in  the  near  distance,  but  to 
leave  her  sister  behind,  within  touch  of  this  master- 
ful spirit,  and  all  the  more  open  to  her  influence 
through  receiving  her  favors,  this  was  a  prospect  be- 
fore which  Kate  chafed  with  a  growing  uneasiness. 
That  thing  which  Tom  had  told  her  so  long  ago, 
which  had  only  amused  her  then,  that  Aunt  Katha- 
rine had  said  she  would  leave  her  money  to  that  one 
of  her  female  relatives  who  would  promise  never  to 
marry,  came  back  to  her  now  to  vex  and  trouble  her. 
That  the  woman  would  definitely  make  so  bald  a 
proposal,  or  that  the  girl  would  definitely  accept  it, 
were  suggestions  which  at  moments  seemed  too  foolish 
to  entertain ;  she  could  brush  them  aside  with  scorn ; 
and  then,  in  some  new  form,  they  would  come 
creeping  back.  If  not  a  definite  proposal,  a  formal 
promise,  there  might  be  tacit  understanding,  some- 
thing which  would  rest  upon  the  girl  and  bind  her 
as  subtly  as  any  pledge.  Poor  Kate !  She  could  not 
even  understand  her  own  state  of  mind.  Was  it  love 
of  Esther?  Was  it  thought  of  Morton  Elwell,  and 
a  haunting  sense  of  a  hope  which  she  felt  sure  he 
carried  deep  in  his  heart?  Or  was  it  simply  the  re- 


WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK.  22Q 

volt  of  a  spirit  as  stout  as  Aunt  Katharine's  own 
against  the  possibility  of  any  bondage,  for  her  sister 
as  for  herself? 

As  the  days  went  on  -. —  the  days  before  the  letter 
came  from  home  which  finally  settled  the  question  — 
she  grew  restless  and  depressed.  Even  the  disputes 
with  Tom  fell  off,  and  he  rallied  her  sometimes  on 
her  lack  of  spirit. 

"  I  believe  it's  the  notion  of  going  West  again  that 
makes  you  so  down  in  the  mouth,  for  all  you  pretend 
you're  so  keen  to  go,"  he  said  to  her  once,  as  they 
were  tramping  home  in  the  late  afternoon  from  the 
wood-lot,  where  they  had  gone  in  search  of  sassafras. 

She  tossed  her  head.  "  You  know  better,"  she 
said,  "and  between  ourselves  and  the  post  you  aren't 
so  very  lively  yourself  lately.  I  believe  you'd  like  to 
go  home  with  me  and  grow  up  with  the  West 
a  while." 

They  exchanged  a  good-natured  laugh.  There  was 
no  denying  that  there  were  moments  when  the 
thought  of  parting  with  his  cousin  Kate  really  de- 
pressed Tom  Saxon.  She  had  the  next,  word,  and 
she  said  it  with  unaffected  seriousness. 

"  Honestly,  Tom,  I  don't  know  what  ails  me.  If  I 
could  have  a  good  out-and-out  cry  I  believe  I  could  get 
over  it ;  but  there  isn't  anything  really  to  cry  about.  I'll 


23O  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

tell  you  how  I  do  sometimes  at  home,  when  I  feel 
blue.  I  get  down  Dickens,  and  read  the  death  of 
little  Nell,  or  how  they  killed  Sydney  Carton,  or 
something  awfully  harrowing  like  that,  you  know,  and 
then  I  have  it  out  and  feel  better.  But  you  haven't 
got  Dickens  here,"  she  added  ruefully. 

"  Grandfather's  got  Foxe's  '  Book  of  Martyrs,'  "  said 
Tom,  grinning,  and  then  he  added,  in  a  tone  of  cu- 
riosity, "  Do  you  cry  over  books  ?  "  It  was  a  femi- 
nine weakness  which  he  had  not  suspected  of  Kate. 

"  Cry  !  "  she  repeated.  "  Yes,  I  do  ;  and  I  don't 
care  who  knows  it.  I'll  tell  you  how  I  got  through 
'  Nicholas  Nickleby.'  It  used  me  up  so  every  time  I 
read  how  Squeers  treated  those  poor  fellows  in  his 
school  that  I  couldn't  stand  it.  Well,  I  knew  he  got 
his  come-up-ance  from  Nicholas  in  the  end,  so  every 
time  I  read  one  of  those  mean  places,  I'd  just  turn 
ahead  and  read  how  Nicholas  flogged  him.  I  reckon 
I  must,  have  read  that  scene  a  dozen  times  before  I 
fairly  came  to  it,  and  it  did  me  more  good  every 
time.  I  believe  that  story  would  have  killed  me  if 
I  hadn't." 

There  was  plenty  of  fight  in  -Kate.  Tom  had 
known  that  for  some  time.  That  there  were  tears, 
too,  need  not  have  surprised  any  one  but  a  boy,  and 
he  liked  her  none  the  less  for  it.  She  gave  a  long 


WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK.  231 

sigh,  and  came  back  to  her  own  troubles.  The  sym- 
pathetic tone  in  which  Tom  said,  "  I  wish  I  could 
do  something  for  you,"  was  a  comfort  in  itself,  and 
the  need  of  talking  to  some  one  drew  her  on. 

"  Right  down  at  the  bottom  of  it,  Tom,  I  suppose 
it's  the  thought  of  going  home  without  Esther;  and 
yet  it  isn't  because  I  hate  to  leave  her  behind.  I 
shall  miss  her,  of  course ;  but  I  could  stand  that. 
She  was  off  at  school  a  whole  year  and  I  didn't  pine 
for  her  so  dreadfully  much.  But  —  but  it's  Aunt 
Katharine !  Tom,  I  can't  bear  to  have  Esther  get 
so  intimate  with  Aunt  Katharine." 

She  had  actually  said  it  now,  and  for  the  rest  of 
the  way  home  she  poured  out  her  heart  with  a  girlish 
freedom.  Perhaps  her  feelings  grew  more  clear  to 
herself  as  she  tried  to  make  them  plain  to  him.  He 
understood  better  than  she  expected,  and  fully 
agreed  with  her  as  to  the  undesirability  of  Aunt 
Katharine's  "making  a  slave  of  Esther";  but  he 
thought  her  fears  on  this  point  much  exaggerated, 
and  it  was  good  advice  that  he  gave  her  as  they 
neared  the  house. 

"  If  I  was  in  your  place  I  wouldn't  worry  about 
it.  I  guess  Aunt  Katharine's  got  some  sense  if  she 
is  so  cranky.  And  Esther's  old  enough  to  know 
what  she's  about.  Just  leave  her  alone  to  get  sick 


232  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

of  some  of  those  notions  herself  before  she's  done 
with  'em,  and  you  ease  up  on  the  fretting.  It  doesn't 
do  a  bit  of  good,  anyhow." 

She  really  meant  to  "  ease  up."  Tom's  opinion  on 
the  last  point  was  distinctly  sound,  but  the  old  dis- 
quiet had  possession  of  her  again  within  five  minutes 
from  the  time  that  conversation  ended.  The  letter 
had  come  from  home  —  she  learned  it  as  she  entered 
the  house  —  giving  hearty  consent  that  Esther  should 
remain  in  New  England,  and  the  girl  was  already  off 
to  carry  the  word  to  Aunt  Katharine.  She  had  said 
she  would  be  back  soon,  but  no  one  really  expected 
it,  and  supper  was  over  before  they  saw  her  coming 
across  the  fields.  Kate,  who  was  watching,  saw  her 
first,  and  slipping  out  of  the  house  hurried  to  meet 
her. 

She  had  brought  happy  thoughts  from  Aunt  Kath- 
arine's, happy  and  serious  too,  it  would  seem  from 
the  look  in  her  face,  and  they  occupied  her  so  in- 
tently that  she  had  almost  met  her  sister  before  she 
saw  her  coming.  Then  she  put  out  both  her  hands 
with  an  eager  greeting. 

"  I'm  so  glad  you've  come,"  she  said.  "I  wanted  to 
talk  it  over  a  little  by  ourselves."  She  slipped  her 
arm  through  Kate's,  and  turned  back  into  the  darken- 
ing fields.  "  You  weren't  surprised  at  what  the 


WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK.  233 

letter  said,  were  you  ?  I  was  sorry  you  weren't 
there  when  it  came ;  but  I  had  to  take  it  down  to 
Aunt  Katharine,  for  it  was  partly  to  her,  and  I 
couldn't  wait." 

"  No,  I  wasn't  surprised.  I  felt  sure  they'd  let 
you  stay,"  said  Kate,  and  then  she  added,  "  I  do  hope 
you'll  have  a  good  time,  Esther,  and  enjoy  everything 
as  much  as  you  expect  to." 

She  had  made  an  effort  to  speak  heartily,  but  there 
was  such  a  sober  note  in  her  voice  that  Esther's  face 
clouded,  and  she  looked  quickly  at  her  sister.  "  If 
you  were  only  going  to  be  here  too,  Kate,  it  would 
be  perfect,"  she  said.  "I  shall  be  wishing  all  the 
way  along  that  you  were  in  the  good  times  with  me. 
And  if  you  hadn't  said  so  positively  that  you  wanted 
to  go  home,  I  should  have  felt  like  proposing  to  Aunt 
Katharine  to  cut  my  time  in  Boston  in  two  and  let 
us  be  there  together  for  a  little  while." 

"  I  shouldn't  have  thanked  you  for  it  if  you  had," 
said  Kate,  a  sudden  impatience  leaping  into  her  voice. 
Then,  with  a  bitterness  she  ought  to  have  kept  down, 
she  added,  "  I  don't  like  Aunt  Katharine,  and  I  don't 
want  her  favors." 

The  look  in  Esther's  face  changed.  "  You  don't 
do  Aunt  Katharine  justice,  Kate,"  she  said.  "  No- 
body does  here.  She  isn't  hateful  and  hard-hearted, 


234  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

as  you  all  seem  to  think.  She's  good  and  kind  and 
true  —  oh,  so  true !  I  believe  she'd  do  more  and 
give  more  than  any  other  person  I  ever  saw  to  bring 
about  what  she  thinks  is  right.  I  don't  know,  I'm 
sure,  how  she  came  to  like  me,  but  I  know  why  I 
like  her.  I  admire  her  and  I  love  her,  and  there's 
nobody  in  the  world  I'd  rather  take  a  favor  from 
than  Aunt  Katharine." 

Kate  set  her  teeth  hard.  She  had  prejudiced  every- 
thing she  had  meant  to  say  by  the  heat  with  which 
she  had  spoken.  She  was  silent  a  moment,  then  she 
said  almost  piteously :  "  I  don't  wonder  she  likes  you. 
But  I  may  as  well  be  honest,  Esther ;  I  do  hate  to 
see  her  getting  such  an  influence  over  you.  It's  all 
well  enough  to  admire  her  for  standing  up  for  her 
own  opinions,  but  I  don't  see  how  you  can  fall  in 
with  some  of  them.  I  don't  see  how  you  can  bear 
it  to  hear  her  talk  so  bitterly  against  the  ways  we've 
always  been  used  to.  And  especially  I  don't  see  how 
you  can  stand  it  to  hear  her  run  down  the  men  as 
she  does." 

"  I  don't  agree  with  all  her  opinions,"  said  Esther, 
quickly,  "but  I  can  see  how  she  comes  to  hold  them, 
and  she  doesn't  always  talk  as  harshly  as  you  think. 
But  it  isn't  her  opinions  any  way;  it's  her  own  self 
that  I  care  about." 


WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK.          235 

"  And  you'll  end  by  wanting  to  look  at  every- 
thing just  as  she  does,  because  you  like  her  so 
much  and  feel  so  indebted  to  her,"  said  Kate. 
Then,  with  an  accent  that  was  fairly  tragic,  she 
added :  "  Oh,  she  knows  it,  she  knows  it,  and  that's 
what  she  wants  to  keep  you  here  for!  She'll  end 
by  wanting  you  never  to  marry,  and  offering  to 
leave  you  all  her  money  if  you'll  promise  not  to  do 
it." 

Esther  drew  her  arm  away  from  her  sister,  and 
the  flush  that  swept  over  her  face  was  plain  even 
in  the  twilight.  "  I  think  you'd  better  leave  all  that 
to  Aunt  Katharine  and  me.  It  doesn't  strike  me  as 
coming  under  your  charge,"  she  said  proudly.  And 
then  the  coldness  in  her  voice  melted  with  a  sudden 
heat  as  she  added :  "  But  suppose  I  should  come  to 
see  things  as  she  does  —  suppose  I  should  come  to 
take  a  different  view  of  life  from  what  I  did  once, 
what  then  ?  I'll  go  where  my  honest  convictions 
lead  me.  It's  my  right  and  my  duty,  and  I  shall 
do  it." 

It  sounded  very  brave  and  solemn  in  the  twilight. 
A  whippoorwill  from  the  woods  behind  Aunt  Kath- 
arine's house  had  the  only  word  that  followed,  and 
he  called  it  across  the  stillness  with  a  long  soft 
cadence  that  sounded  like  a  wail. 


236  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

They  turned  their  faces  to  the  house  and  walked 
toward  it  without  speaking.  It  was  a  relief  to  both 
when  Stella  came  out  to  meet  them. 

"  I  thought  you  were  never  coming,"  she  said  to 
Esther.  "  Dear  me,  I  shall  be  glad  when  I  get  you 
in  Boston,  with  Aunt  Katharine  too  far  away  to  use 
her  magnet  on  you." 

A  half  hour  later  Kate  was  in  conference  with 
Tom  again.  She  had  called  him  into  the  shadows 
of  the  barn,  and  her  voice  was  almost  a  whisper  as 
she  said :  — 

"Tom,  I  want  you  to  wake  me  up  to-morrow  morn- 
ing when  you  come  down  to  do  the  milking.  I'm 
going  to  make  a  call  before  breakfast." 

Tom  gave  a  low  whistle.  "  At  that  time  in  the 
morning  !  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"To  Aunt  Katharine's,"  she  said. 

Tom  gave  another  whistle,  this  time  a  louder  one. 
"  Great  Scott !  "  he  ejaculated.  "  So  you're  going  to 
keep  it  right  up,  are  you  ? " 

"I'm  going  to  keep  it  up  till  I've  had  one  good 
square  talk  with  her,"  said  Kate,  with  decision.  "  Very 
likely  it's  none  of  my  business,  —  you've  told  me  that, 
and  so  has  Esther,  —  but  she's  tremendously  clear 
that  she's  got  to  follow  her  conscience  where  it  leads 
her,  and  mine  leads  me  right  down  there  to  Aunt 


WHEN    GREEK    MEETS    GREEK.  237 

Katharine's.  I  can't  go  home  without  doing  it,  and 
there's  only  a  week  longer  for  me  to  stay,  so  I  may 
as  well  take  time  by  the  forelock." 

"  I  should  think  it  was  taking  time  by  the  forelock 
with  a  vengeance  to  go  down  there  at  five  o'clock.  Why 
don't  you  go  at  a  reasonable  hour? "  growled  Tom. 

Kate  was  losing  patience.  "  Because  I  don't  want 
Esther  to  know  I'm  going,"  she  said.  "  If  I  go  later 
she  might  happen  to  come  in  while  I'm  there,  or  she 
might  ask  me  where  I'd  been.  No,  I've  made  up 
my  mind  to  go  before  breakfast,  and  all  you  have  to 
do  is  to  wake  me  up." 

"  I'd  like  to  know  how  I'm  going  to  do  it  without 
waking  her,  too,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  I'll  fix  that  part,"  she  replied,  beginning  to 
smile  a  little.  "Of  course  you  can't  pound  on  the 
door ;  but  I've  got  a  trick  worth  two  of  that.  I'll 
tie  a  string  round  my  wrist  and  let  the  end  hang 
out  of  the  window.  Then,  when  you  come  by,  you 
can  pull  it  and  that'll  wake  me  up.  I  waked  a  girl 
that  way  once,  on  Fourth  of  July  (only  the  string 
was  round  her  ankle),  and  she  slept  so  like  a  log 
that  she  said  I  almost  pulled  her  out  of  the  window 
before  she  was  fairly  awake.  But  you  needn't  be 
afraid  of  pulling  me  out.  Just  give  a  twitch  and  I 
shall  feel  it.  I  sleep  on  the  front  side." 


238  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

"All  right,"  said  Tom,  and  then  he  could  not  help 
adding,  "but  I'll  tell  you  now  that  your  going  down 
there  won't  do  a  bit  of  good,  and  you'd  better  keep 
out  of  it." 

"  It'll  do  me  good  to  free  my  mind,"  said  Kate. 
"  And  after  that  I  mean  to  take  your  advice,  Tom, 
and  quit  worrying." 

The  allusion  to  his  advice  was  gratifying.  Tom 
agreed  to  administer  the  twitch  at  half-past  four  the 
next  morning,  and  they  separated,  feeling  like  a  pair 
of  conspirators,  Kate  at  least  clear  in  the  opinion 
that  she  was  conspiring  for  the  good  of  humanity. 

She  lay  awake  so  long  that  night,  turning  in  her 
mind  what  she  would  say  to  Aunt  Katharine,  and  never 
getting  it  settled,  for  the  singular  reason  that  she  could 
never  foresee  what  Aunt  Katharine  would  say  next,  that 
it  seemed  to  her  she  had  not  been  asleep  at  all  when 
there  came  the  appointed  signal  in  the  cool  of  the 
morning.  For  a  moment  she  had  a  passing  dream  that 
some  one  was  trying  to  amputate  her  hand  with  a 
wood-saw,  then  it  all  came  back  to  her.  Her  eyes  flew 
open,  and  she  crept  stealthily  out  of  bed.  A  flutter  of 
the  curtain  showed  Tom  she  was  astir,  but  after  that 
there  was  as  little  flutter  as  possible. 

She  slipped  into  her  clothes  as  noiselessly  as  a 
ghost,  with  fearful  glances  at  Esther,  who  slept  on  in 


WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK.          239 

serene  oblivion  of  the  plot  against  her,  carried  her 
shoes  in  her  hand  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and  went  out 
through  the  kitchen,  where  even  Aunt  Elsie  had  not 
yet  made  her  appearance.  At  the  barn  she  paused  a 
minute  for  a  word  with  Tom  and  a  cup  of  new  milk, 
then  flew  down  the  lane,  anxious  still  lest  some  one, 
looking  unseasonably  from  the  house,  should  see  her, 
till  the  bend  of  the  first  hill  hid  her  from  view. 

Some  one  has  acutely  remarked  that  people  who 
break  their  usual  habits  by  rising  very  early  in  the 
morning  are  apt  to  be  a  little  conceited  in  the  first  part 
of  the  day  and  somewhat  stupid  in  the  last.  There  was 
certainly  no  lack  of  self-assurance  in  Kate  Northmore, 
as  she  took  that  walk  across  the  dewy  fields,  with  the 
fresh  air  blowing  on  her  face,  and  the  twitter  of  birds 
sounding  from  the  woods.  Not  till  she  actually  stood 
at  Aunt  Katharine's  threshold  was  there  any  tremor  of 
her  nerves  or  any  flutter  at  her  heart. 

Miss  Saxon  herself  answered  the  knock,  and  a  look 
of  something  like  alarm  came  into  her  face  as  she  saw 
the  caller.  "Is  anybody  sick  at  your  house?"  she 
asked  quickly. 

Kate  had  not  foreseen  the  question.  "  No,"  she 
said,  taken  a  little  aback.  "  Nobody's  sick,  but  I 
wanted  to  see  you,  and  I  thought  I'd  come  early." 

"  I  should  think  so,"  ejaculated  the  old  woman,  her 


24O  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

face  relaxing  into  a  grim  sort  of  a  smile.  "  Well,  come 
in  and  se'  down." 

She  had  no  notion  of  preparing  the  way  for  the  an- 
nouncement of  a  pressing  errand,  or  of  hindering  it  by 
any  observations  of  her  own,  and  she  took  the  chair 
opposite  Kate's  with  her  hands  clasped  on  the  top  of 
her  cane,  waiting  in  perfect  silence  for  the  girl  to  begin. 

Kate's  heart  began  to  thump  now,  and  her  mouth 
felt  suddenly  dry.  "  I'm  going  home  in  a  week,"  she 
said,  "  and  I  —  I  wanted  to  talk  about  something  with 
you  before  I  went."  And  then  suddenly  she  stopped. 
There  was  a  queer  sort  of  clutch  at  her  throat,  and 
for  a  minute  she  could  not  go  on. 

The  old  woman's  eyebrows  bent  themselves  into  a 
puzzled  frown.  "Well,"  she  said  at  last,  "you  hain't 
favored  me  with  much  of  your  company  this  summer. 
If  you've  got  any  particular  reason  for  coming  now,  I 
s'pose  you  know  what  'tis." 

The  sharpness  of  her  tone  brought  Kate  back  to 
herself.  "Yes'm  I  do,"  she  said,  "and  it's  about  Es- 
ther. You've  asked  her  to  stay  here  and  she's  going  to 
do  it — no,  I  don't  want  to  stay  myself," -  — she  threw 
in  quickly.  "I'm  ready  to  go  home;  but  she  wants  to. 
She  thinks  it's  glorious."  And  then  she  stopped  again, 
that  unaccountable  clutch  at  the  throat  coming  for  a 
second  time. 


WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK.  24! 

"  And  you  don't  want  her  to  do  it  ?  Is  that  what 
you're  driving  at  ? "  said  Aunt  Katharine.  She  was  in 
no  mood  now  for  delays. 

"  I  should  just  as  lief  she'd  do  it  as  not  —  I  want  her 
to  have  a  good  time,"  cried  Kate,  "if — if  you  only 
wouldn't  try  to  make  her  think  as  you  do  about  some 
things." 

It  was  out  now,  and  the  clutch  at  her  throat  relaxed. 

"Oh,"  said  Miss  Saxon.  There  was  a  volume  of 
meaning  in  the  monosyllable  as  she  spoke  it,  and  then 
her  face  grew  cold  and  sharp  as  an  icicle.  "What 
things  ? " 

It  was  really  a  pity  that  Kate  was  not  better  informed 
as  to  her  aunt's  peculiar  views.  But  she  caught  at 
the  one  which  had  offended  her  most,  and  thrust  it  for- 
ward roughly.  "  About  hating  everything,  especially 
the  men,"  she  cried,  "  and  not  wanting  girls  to  be 
married.  They  say  you  want  to  leave  your  money 
to  somebody  who'll  promise  to  stay  single  all  her 
life." 

Miss  Saxon  started,  and  a  faint  pink  color  rose  in 
her  cheeks,  old  and  wrinkled  as  they  were.  "  Did 
your  sister  tell  you  that?"  she  demanded. 

"  No,"  said  Kate,  "  I  don't  know  as  she  ever  heard 
of  it  till  I  told  her.  I  told  her  last  night,  and  how  I 
felt  about  it,  too." 

R 


242  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

"And  she  said  —  ?"  queried  Miss  Saxon.  The 
pink  was  still  in  her  cheeks. 

"Well,"  said  Kate  —  she  hesitated  a  moment  and 
then  looked  straight  at  the  questioner — "she  as 
good  as  said  it  was  none  of  my  business,  and  she'd 
do  what  she  thought  was  right  whatever  came  of  it." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Aunt  Katharine,  with  an  accent  of  re- 
lief. "  And  I  presume  you  didn't  tell  her  that  you 
were  coming  here  this  morning.  I  see  now  why  you 
came  so  early."  She  looked  at  her  niece  with  a  faint 
sarcastic  smile,  then  said  coldly,  "  I  am  very  fond  of 
your  sister." 

The  words  sounded  somehow  like  a  threat.  The 
blood  mounted  in  Kate's  face,  and  she  clinched  her 
hands  on  the  sides  of  her  chair.  "  I  know  it,"  she 
said,  ""and  so  is  every  one  else  fond  of  her.  Grand- 
father likes  her  just  as  much  as  you  do.  Perhaps  it's 
new  for  you  to  care  for  a  girl  as  you  care  for  her, 
but  it's  no  new  thing  for  Esther.  It's  been  the  way 
ever  since  she  was  little." 

The  bearing  of  the  fact  on  Kate's  ground  of  quar- 
rel with  her  aunt  was  perhaps  not  clear,  but  some 
fine  wrinkles  gathered  in  Miss  Saxon's  forehead. 

"  And  does  Esther  like  everybody  ? "  she  asked, 
with  a  returning  sharpness. 

"  She  keeps  it  to  herself  if  she  doesn't,"  said  Kate. 


WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK.  243 

"She's  kind  to  everybody  —  most  everybody,"  she 
added,  with  a  sudden  remembrance  of  the  one  per- 
son to  whom  Esther  had  not  of  late  seemed  always 
kind.  "  And  that's  how  she  gets  into  trouble,  mak- 
ing everybody  like  her,  with  her  soft  pleasant  ways 
and  saying  nice  things.  Oh,  I've  had  to  stand  up 
for  her  so  many  times  to  keep  her  from  being  im- 
posed on !  I'm  standing  up  for  her  now,"  she  went 
on  passionately.  "  It's  your  ideas  you  care  about, 
and  you  want  her  to  take  up  with  them,  whether 
they'll  make  her  happy  or  not.  But  I  care  for  her, 
and  I  want  to  make  you  stop." 

The  old  woman's  face  had  grown  as  tense  as  a 
drawn  bow.  "  So  you  think  my  ideas  are  getting 
hold  of  her,  do  you  ? "  she  asked. 

"She  thinks  they  are,"  cried  Kate,  "but  I  don't 
believe  it.  I  believe  it's  just  because  she  thinks  so 
much  of  you.  But  if  she  should  come  to  feel  as  you 
do  about  all  those  things,  what  good  would  it  do  ? 
She  couldn't  fight  for  them.  Do  you  think  there's 
any  fight  in  Esther  Northmore  ? "  She  threw  out 
her  hand  with  an  impatient  gesture.  "  Oh,  they  say 
you're  so  clever !  But  you're  not  clever  at  all  if  you 
think  that.  She'd  bear  things  till  they  broke  her 
heart  before  she'd  fight." 

Miss  Saxon's  lips  were  drawn  tight,  and  her  eyes 


244  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

narrowed  to  a  bright  dark  line,  as  if  these  side-lights 
that  Kate  had  been  throwing  on  Esther's  character 
had  blinded  her  a  little.  She  did  not  speak  for  a 
moment,  and  the  girl  went  on  hotly,  even  fiercely. 

"  You  talk  about  wanting  women  to  be  so  free  and 
independent,  but  you  want  to  bind  Esther  to  those 
ideas  of  yours  and  make  her  carry  them  out.  I'll  tell 
you  what  would  be  the  end  of  it  if  she  should  come 
into  your  plan.  She'd  stand  by  what  she  promised, 
but  'twould  kill  her.  She's  made  for  loving,  and  for 
caring  about  the  things  we've  always  cared  about, 
and  she  wouldn't  be  happy  any  other  way.  She  isn't 
that  kind." 

Aunt  Katharine's  lips  parted  now.  They  seemed 
to  be  as  dry  as  Kate's  had  been  a  little  while  ago. 
She  leaned  forward  on  her  cane  and  asked  a  ques- 
tion slowly.  "You  pretend  to  know  so  much  about 
your  sister,  tell  me,  do  you  think  there's  anybody  she 
cares  for  now  ?  " 

Kate  dropped  her  head  for  a  moment,  but  it  was 
no  time  for  evasions.  The  excitement  and  strain  of 
the  situation  were  too  much  for  her  at  last.  "  No,  I 
don't,"  she  said,  with  the  tears  springing  into  her 
eyes.  "  But  there's  somebody  that  cares  a  sight  for 
her;  and  if  she  should  ever  come  to  care  for  him 
she'd  be  a  thousand  times  happier  than  she'd  ever 


WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK.  245 

be  with  anything  you  could  do  for  her.  Oh,  if  you 
should  make  her  promise  —  if  you  should  leave  your 
money  to  her  —  I  should  hate  you  as  long  as  I  live, 
and  she  would  hate  you,  too,  after  a  while." 

Miss  Katharine  Saxon  rose  from  her  seat.  She 
had  not  been  as  straight  in  years,  but  she  trembled 
from  head  to  foot  as  she  stood  there  facing  the  girl. 

"  Katharine  Northmore,  —  for  you're  my  namesake, 
if  you  do  hate  me,  —  "  she  said  slowly,  "  you've  said 
enough.  You  took  upon  yourself  to  do  a  very  imperti- 
nent thing  when  you  came  down  here  to  give  instruc- 
tions to  me.  I  shall  walk  by  the  light  I've  got,  and 
do  my  duty  as  I  see  it,  by  myself  and  your  sister  too. 
Now  go  home.  And  you  needn't  be  afraid  I  shall 
tell  Esther  you  were  here.  I  shan't  shame  her  nor 
myself  by  ever  speaking  of  it." 

But  when  she  was  left  alone  she  sank  back  in  her 
chair,  and  there  was  almost  a  sob  in  her  voice  as  she 
said,  "  If  it  were  only  that  girl  who  saw  things  as  I  see 
them!" 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

INTO   THE   WEST   AGAIN. 

THE  good  cry  which  Kate  had  been  longing  for 
came  before  she  got  back  to  her  grandfather's 
that  morning.  She  took  it  with  a  girlish  abandon, 
sitting  on  the  meadow  bridge.  Then  she  rose  up, 
bathed  her  face  in  the  brook  and  went  on  her  way, 
half  ashamed  of  what  she  had  done,  half  wondering 
that  she  had  dared  to  do  it,  and  wholly  glad  that  it 
was  over.  Tom  was  waiting  for  her  at  the  bars  below 
the  barn.  It  helped  the  appearance  of  things  that  she 
should  go  in  with  him  to  breakfast,  and,  though  he 
would  have  scorned  to  own  it,  Tom  had  a  healthy 
curiosity  as  to  the  outcome  of  this  interview  with 
Aunt  Katharine. 

Kate's  report  of  it  was  meagre ;  but  the  impression 
was  left  on  his  mind  that  she  had  gotten  rather  the 
worst  of  it,  especially  as  she  made  no  concealment  of 
the  fact  that  she  had  been  summarily  dismissed  at  the 
end.  She  owned  frankly  that  she  had  been  crying, 
and  then  showed  plainly  that  the  spirit  of  controversy 

246 


INTO    THE    WEST   AGAIN.  247 

was  not  dead  in  her  yet  by  the  reckless  manner  in 
which  she  threw  in  her  "  Westernisms  "  and  defended 
them  during  the  rest  of  their  talk.  On  the  whole, 
Tom  felt  relieved  as  to  her  state  of  mind,  and  they 
went  into  the  house  quarrelling  in  the  most  natural 
manner;  she  having  remarked  that  Aunt  Katharine's 
fierce  manner  didn't  "  faze  "  her  after  she  got  started, 
and  he  protesting  that  there  was  no  such  word  in  the 
dictionary.  He  maintained  his  point  as  far  as  the  old 
Webster  in  the  house  was  concerned,  but  she  at  least 
proved  that  her  word  came  of  good  respectable  stock, 
and  stood  firm  on  the  proposition  that  it  onglit  to  be 
there  if  it  wasn't. 

It  was  the  last  time  for  many  a  day  that  Kate  spoke 
to  any  one  of  that  morning's  adventure.  Not  a  sus- 
picion of  it  dawned  on  Esther.  The  talk  between 
the  sisters  the  night  before  had  been  too  nearly  a 
quarrel  for  either  of  them  to  wish  to  reopen  the 
subject  which  had  so  disturbed  them,  and  it  was  out 
of  consideration  for  Kate's  uneasiness  over  the  intimacy 
with  Aunt  Katharine  that  Esther  went  to  her  house 
less  often  than  usual  during  the  next  few  days.  But 
indeed  it  was  not  easy  during  the  week  that  was  left 
of  Kate's  stay  at  her  grandfather's  for  either  of  the 
girls  to  find  time  for  anything  except  the  pleasurings 
which  always  crowd  the  last  days  of  a  visit.  Every- 


248  WHEAT   AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

thing  which  had  been  omitted  before  must  be  done 
now,  and  there  were  all  the  little  gifts  to  be  prepared 
for  the  family  at  home,  tokens  of  special  meaning  for 
each  one,  and  for  Mrs.  Northmore  most  of  all. 

She  had  asked  for  a  piece  of  flag-root  from  the  old 
spot  in  the  meadow,  and  enough  was  dug  to  satisfy 
her  appetite  for  years,  Aunt  Elsie  preserving  some  of 
it  in  sugar,  just  as  the  grandmother  used  to  in  the  old 
days,  when  children  carried  bits  of  it  to  church  in 
their  pockets  to  keep  them  awake  during  sermon  time. 
She  had  mentioned  an  apple  from  the  crooked  tree 
in  the  lane,  whose  seeds  always  shook  in  their  core 
like  a  rattlebox  by  the  first  of  September,  and  every 
apple  which  ripened  on  the  old  farm  in  the  summer 
had  a  place  in  Kate's  trunk.  There  were  odors,  too, 
which  she  loved ;  odors  of  pine,  and  sweet  fern,  and 
life  everlasting,  to  be  gathered  and  sewed  into  silken 
bags  and  pillows ;  and  there  was  a  little  bunch  —  Aunt 
Elsie  tucked  it  in  —  of  dried  hardback  and  catnip  and 
spearmint. 

"  I  don't  suppose  she  ever  steeped  those  things  for 
her  own  babies,  being  a  doctor's  wife,"  she  said;  "but 
she  knew  the  taste  of  them  when  she  was  a  baby 
herself,  and  I  guess  it'll  bring  back  the  old  garret  to 
her,  and  the  bunches  that  hung  from  the  rafters  when 
she  and  I  used  to  play  there  on  rainy  days." 


INTO    THE    WEST    AGAIN.  249 

Such  were  the  chief  events  of  that  last  week,  but 
there  was  one  other  of  some  importance,  a  call  from 
Mr.  Philip  Hadley,  who  did  not  come  this  time  to 
inquire  for  his  ancestors,  but  very  distinctly  for  the 
young  ladies,  and  the  fact  that  their  grandfather  was 
absent  did  not  prevent  his  making  a  decidedly  long 
call.  He  seemed  extremely  interested  in  all  their 
doings  since  he  saw  them  last,  and  the  look  of  pleas- 
ure with  which  he  heard  the  announcement  that 
Esther  was  to  spend  the  winter  in  Boston  would  have 
convinced  Tom,  had  he  seen  it,  of  the  correctness  of 
an  opinion  he  had  lately  expressed  to  Kate.  It  did 
not  affect  her,  however.  It  was  no  young  man  with 
soft  white  hands,  but  only  a  grim  old  woman,  whose 
influence  she  feared  for  her  sister. 

So  the  days  went  by,  swift,  hurrying  days,  and 
brought  the  morning  of  Kate's  departure.  Tom 
would  have  liked  to  go  with  her  to  the  depot,  but  it 
was  the  grandfather,  with  the  girls,  of  course,  who 
made  the  trip.  They  said  good-by  to  each  other  in 
a  last  interview  at  the  barn,  and  though  each  tried 
to  be  gay  and  off-hand,  the  effort  was  not  very  suc- 
cessful. They  made  solemn  compact  to  write  to  each 
other  often,  Tom  for  his  part  agreeing  to  keep  his 
"eye  peeled  "  for  any  developments  concerning  Esther, 
and  Kate  for  hers  promising  to  "  watch  out "  for 


25O  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

anything   that    could    interest    him    in    affairs    at   the 
West. 

"You  must  come  out  and  see  us,  Tom,"  she  said 
earnestly.  "  I  want  to  show  you  everything,  and 
make  you  like  our  part  of  the  country  as  well  as  — 
as  well  as  I  like  this.  Your  ways  are  different  from 
ours,  of  course ;  but  I've  got  a  lot  of  new  ideas,  and 
I've  had  an  awfully  good  time  with  you,  Tom.  I 
didn't  know  I  could  feel  so  bad  to  go  away." 

"  I  guess  I  should  like  it  out  your  way  too,"  said 
Tom,  turning  his  head  as  if  it  were  not  quite  safe 
to  look  into  her  eyes  at  that  moment,  "  and  perhaps 
sometime  I  can  come.  I  guess  it's  good  for  folks 
to  see  something  besides  their  own  things,  and  — 
I  know  I  should  like  it  out  West  if  you  were  there." 

And  then  they  parted,  each  of  them  having  ap- 
parently some  trouble  with  the  throat  just  then,  and 
Tom  drawing  his  sleeve  across  his  eyes  in  a  sus- 
picious manner  as  he  walked  down  the  lane. 

"  The  Lord  bless  and  keep  you  and  cause  His 
face  to  shine  upon  you,"  Ruel  Saxon  said  solemnly 
as  he  bade  the  girl  good-by  at  the  depot. 

It  was  the  last  word  before  the  train  pulled  out, 
for  Esther's  heart  was  full,  and  she  could  say  no 
more  after  sending  her  love  for  the  thousandth  time 
to  them  all  at  home.  And  then  the  beautiful  New 


INTO   THE   WEST   AGAIN. 

England  village,  with  its  lovely  homes  and  shaded 
streets,  faded  from  Kate's  sight;  the  hills  and  the 
little  fields,  crossed  by  the  old  stone  walls,  rushed 
past  her,  and  it  was  the  wide  green  stretches  of  the 
home  country  for  which  the  eyes  of  her  heart  were 
straining  as  she  flew  on  into  the  West. 

It  was  a  great  day  for  the  family  when  she 
reached  home.  The  doctor  was  at  the  depot,  im- 
patient as  a  boy  over  the  three  minutes'  delay  in  the 
train  that  brought  her  in,  and  he  almost  forgot  to 
secure  her  trunk,  or  set  her  bag  into  the  carriage, 
in  his  delight  at  seeing  her. 

"Well,  I  believe  they  must  have  treated  you  pretty 
well  back  there,"  he  said,  pinching  her  cheek.  And 
he  would  have  had  her  on  the  scales  before  she  left 
the  depot  if  she  had  not  protested  that  she  could  not 
spare  a  second  getting  weighed. 

"  I  shall  lose  a  pound  for  every  minute  we  waste  get- 
ting home,"  she  cried,  jumping  into  the  carriage;  and  at 
this  he  laughed,  and  putting  the  reins  into  her  hands, 
told  her  to  get  the  gray  filly  over  the  ground  as  fast  as 
she  pleased.  How  they  did  go  dashing  down  the  road, 
and  what  wonder  that  excitement  was  rife  in  the  town 
that  afternoon  as  to  what  member  of  the  community 
was  lying  at  the  point  of  death  that  the  doctor  was 
going  at  such  a  rate  to  see  him ! 


252  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

They  were  on  the  porch  to  greet  her  when  she  pulled 
up  at  the  door,  Mrs.  Northmore  and  Virgie,  with  Aunt 
Milly  gorgeous  in  her  best  cap  and  kerchief  at  the 
rear ;  and  such  a  hugging  and  kissing,  such  a  laugh- 
ing and  crying  followed  as  might  have  made  one  won- 
der what  would  have  happened  if  the  girl  had  stayed 
away  a  year  instead  of  a  single  summer. 

It  was  good  to  be  back  —  so  good ;  she  realized  it 
more  with  every  minute,  and  the  trite  old  saying 
that  the  best  part  of  going  away  from  home  is  coming 
back  again  appealed  to  her  as  never  before.  The 
trunk  was  unpacked  with  all  the  household  gathered 
round,  but  no  one,  not  even  Mrs.  Northmore,  dar- 
ing to  help,  lest  some  precious  token,  tucked  safely 
in  by  Kate's  own  hand,  should  be  drawn  prematurely 
from  its  corner  or  shaken  unwarily  from  the  folds 
of  a  dress.  Oh,  the  joy  of  drawing  them  out,  one 
after  another,  and  the  bursts  of  delight  with  which 
they  were  received ! 

Virgie  skipped  about  the  room  in  glee  over  the 
trinkets  which  had  been  brought  to  her  from  Boston 
and  the  sea ;  Dr.  Northmore  declared  he  must  have 
coffee  made  at  once  to  give  him  a  chance  of  using 
the  beautiful  cup  which  Stella  had  painted  with  just 
such  blossoming  honeysuckles  as  grew  over  the  door 
from  which  he  had  carried  away  his  bride ;  Aunt 


INTO    THE    WEST    AGAIN.  2$ 3 

Milly  stood  agape  over  the  glories  of  the  black  silk 
apron  which  her  young  ladies  had  embroidered  for 
her  in  figures  of  the  gayest  colors  —  Jack  Horner 
enjoying  his  Christmas  pie  in  one  corner,  Miss  Muf- 
fet  frightened  from  her  curds  by  the  wicked  black 
spider  in  another,  and  the  muffin  man  with  his  tray 
on  his  head  stalking  proudly  between ;  while  as  for 
Mrs.  North  more,  she  sat  like  a  little  child,  her  lap 
filling  with  treasures,  nibbling  now  and  then  at  the 
flag-root,  or  burying  her  face  in  those  dear  old  odors, 
and  lifting  it  again  with  smiles  shining  through  the 
tears  in  her  eyes. 

Not  till  the  very  bottom  of  the  trunk  had  been 
reached  was  it  emptied  of  its  last  gift,  and  then  there 
was  plenty  of  need  for  the  mother's  help ;  for  the 
putting  away  of  her  scattered  wardrobe  was  a  task 
to  which  Kate  could  not  quiet  her  excited  nerves. 
She  was  almost  too  happy  to  eat,  but  the  supper 
Aunt  Milly  had  made  ready  would  have  put  the  edge 
of  appetite  on  satiety  itself. 

"Why,  Aunt  Milly,  a  body'd  think  I  was  a  regular 
prodigal,  to  have  such  a  feast  as  this  set  out  for  me," 
she  declared,  at  the  close  of  the  meal,  when  it  seemed 
as  if  every  one  of  her  favorite  dainties  had  been 
heaped  upon  her  plate  in  turn,  but  the  old  woman 
shook  her  head  at  this  with  emphasis. 


254  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

"No  ye  ain't,  honey,"  she  said,  "your  Aunt  Milly 
never  did  have  no  use  for  prodigals "  (she  would 
probably  not  have  recognized  any  member  of  her 
family  in  that  character,  however  he  might  have 
wasted  his  substance),  "  but  I  allers  did  'low  that 
them  that's  a  comfort  to  you  were  the  ones  to  fix  for. 
Tears  to  me  that  was  a  terrible  mean-spirited  man 
in  the  Bible  that  never  let  'em  set  out  a  kid  or  any- 
thing for  the  boy  that  was  so  good  'n'  steady.  Pd 
have  done  it,  if  I'd  been  cookin'  for  'em,  sure  nuff  I 
would." 

It  was,  perhaps,  the  devoted  old  servant  who  had 
pined  most  for  Kate's  return,  and  it  was  certainly  she 
who  was  most  anxious  to  have  the  girl  all  to  herself 
now  that  she  had  fairly  come.  Mrs.  Northmore  could 
wait.  The  things  she  cared  most  to  know  would  be 
learned  best  in  the  unsolicited  confidences  of  the  days 
that  were  coming,  and  she  feigned  some  errand  for 
herself  in  the  edge  of  evening  which  gave  the  girl  a 
chance  to  sit  for  a  little  while  in  the  kitchen,  with 
the  old  woman  questioning  her  and  crooning  over 
her  out  of  the  depths  of  an  abounding  love. 

"  We've  missed  you  powerful  bad,  honey,"  she 
said,  rocking  back  and  forth,  with  her  eyes  fixed  in 
a  beaming  content  on  the  girl's  face.  "  'Spect  they 
didn't  put  much  of  it  into  the  letters,  but  I  tell  you 


INTO    THE    WEST    AGAIN.  255 

your  ma's  been  mighty  lonesome  some  of  the  time. 
I  could  see  it,  if  the  rest  couldn't;  and  your  pa  —  you 
could  tell  how  he  felt  by  the  way  he  fretted  if  the 
letters  didn't  come  jes'  so  often.  And  'tween  you 
'n'  me  he  didn't  like  it  much  to  have  Esther  stay  all 
winter,  only  your  ma  worked  him  round,  the  way 
she  has,  you  know.  Bless  your  heart,  if  they'd  wanted 
you  to  stay  too,  dunno  what  would  'a'  happened  to 
us.  'Spect  this  yer  ole  woman  would  'a'  been  dead 
'n'  gone  before  spring.  I've  been  pinin'  for  you  all 
summer." 

"  But  I  shouldn't  have  stayed  if  they  had  wanted 
me,"  Kate  said  cheerfully,  and  then  she  added  with  a 
mischievous  twinkle  in  her  eyes,  "but  really,  Aunt 
Milly,  you  don't  look  as  if  you  had  been  pining.  It 
rather  seems  to  me  you've  grown  a  little  stouter  since 
we  went  away." 

"  Laws  now,  Miss  Kate,"  cried  Aunt  Milly,  "  that's 
jes'  some  o'  your  jokin'."  Then,  smoothing  her  ample 
front  with  an  uneasy  expression,  she  added  beseech- 
ingly :  "  But  you  can't  tell  by  the  looks  o'  folks  what's 
goin'  on  inside  of  'em.  I  was  powerful  puny  a  spell 
back.  Your  pa'll  tell  you  how  much  medicine  he  giv' 
me."  Then,  her  face  brightening  again  :  "  But  you  or' 
to  see  the  way  I  began  to  pick  up  when  the  day  was 
set  for  you  to  come  home.  'Feared  like  the  misery  jes' 


256  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

cleared  out  of  itself,  an'  I  reckon  I  did  get  back  the 
flesh  I  lost,  with  maybe  a  little  more,"  she  ended 
serenely. 

"  Well,  I  hope  the  misery'll  stay  away  for  good,  now 
I've  come,"  said  Kate,  laughing.  The  sound  of  voices 
in  the  hall  told  her  that  a  bevy  of  friends  had  come  to 
welcome  her  home,  and  with  another  smile  at  Milly  she 
was  off  to  meet  them,  and  to  begin  all  over  again  the 
account  of  her  beautiful  summer. 

The  warmth  with  which  the  Western  town  greets  its 
returning  children  is  one  of  the  pleasant  things  to  have 
known  in  one's  journey  through  life.  For  the  next  few 
days  Kate's  time  was  full,  responding  to  the  welcome 
of  her  friends,  asking  and  answering  questions,  and 
adjusting  herself  again  to  her  own  place. 

There  was  one  friend  for  whom  she  inquired  early, 
and  of  him  Mrs.  Elwell  brought  the  fullest  report 
when  she  brought  her  own  greeting  to  the  girl  next 
morning.  Morton  had  hardly  been  at  home  all  sum- 
mer. He  had  been  busy,  first  at  one  thing,  then 
another,  as  Kate  knew,  and  now  —  it  was  quite  a  sud- 
den move  —  he  was  with  an  engineering  party  in  an 
adjoining  county.  It  seemed  he  had  given  some 
special  attention  to  surveying  during  the  last  year  in 
college,  and,  like  everything  else  he  gave  his  mind  to, 
had  it  so  well  in  hand  that  it  turned  to  his  use  and 


INTO    THE    WEST    AGAIN. 

advantage.  The  work  would  keep  him  a  few  weeks 
longer,  which  would  make  him  late  in  getting  back  to 
school,  but  the  pay  was  so  good  he  had  felt  he  must 
make  the  most  of  his  chance.  She  gave  one  of  those 
little  sighs  which  every  one  understood  when  she  talked 
of  her  nephew,  and  then  her  face  brightened  as  she 
added,  "  But  he'll  certainly  come  home  before  he  goes 
back  to  college,  and  we  shall  see  him  before  so  very 
long." 

At  which  Kate's  face  brightened  too.  There  was  no 
one  now  whom  she  wanted  so  much  to  see  as  Morton 
Elwell. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  NABOB  MAKES  AN  IMPRESSION. 

IT  was  a  divided  stream  in  which  the  current  of  our 
story  flowed  during  the  days  that  followed,  and  a 
quiet  stream  it  seemed  at  first  after  the  dash  and 
sparkle  of  the  summer.  A  week  more  and  Kate  was 
busy  with  her  books  again,  beginning  her  last  year  in 
the  Rushmore  High  School.  Tom  Saxon  was  in  school 
too,  and  Stella  had  flitted  back  to  Boston,  ready  to 
settle  down  in  that  pretty  studio  of  hers,  with  her  art 
and  her  pupils.  Esther  alone  was  at  leisure,  but  even 
for  her  the  time  passed  swiftly.  Aunt  Elsie  gave  her 
a  willing  share  in  the  light  work  of  the  household,  and 
her  grandfather  claimed  her  more  and  more  as  a  com- 
panion in  all  his  goings,  and  a  listener  to  his  tales  in 
the  lengthening  evenings. 

Then  there  were  the  visits  to  Aunt  Katharine,  and 
few  were  the  days  in  which  they  were  omitted.  The 
sight  of  the  girl  always  brought  a  smile  to  the  face 
of  the  lonely  old  woman.  She  was,  if  possible,  more 
kind  than  ever,  and  yet,  though  Esther  could  not 

258 


THE  NABOB  MAKES  AN  IMPRESSION.        259 

have  explained  it,  she  felt  with  a  puzzled  wonder  that 
there  was  somehow  a  difference.  Not  for  long  had 
Aunt  Katharine  talked  in  the  old  passionate  way  of 
those  peculiar  views  which  she  held  so  dear  and  vital. 
She  seemed  less  eager  than  once  to  impress  them,  and 
Esther  noted  it,  resenting  more  and  more  that  fancy 
of  her  sister's  that  the  proud-spirited  old  woman  would 
have  taken  undue  advantage  of  her  influence,  or  have 
wished  to  put  compulsion  on  another's  life  and  thought. 

It  was  a  pity  Kate  did  not  know  the  true  state  of  the 
case.  As  it  was  she  sent  an  anxious  thought  every 
now  and  then  in  the  direction  of  Aunt  Katharine,  and 
shook  her  fist,  metaphorically  speaking,  in  the  face  of 
those  ideas  which  she  imagined  her  to  be  always  urg- 
ing. In  regard  to  anything  else  she  refused  to  be 
solicitous  over  her  sister,  though  Tom,  who  actually 
wrote  a  letter  once  a  week  for  the  first  month,  did  his 
best  to  disturb  her.  The  "  nabob  "  was  not  only  call- 
ing of tener  than  ever,  —  and  this  in  the  absence  of 
Stella,  —  but  the  grandfather  and  Esther  had  been 
invited  to  visit  at  his  summer  home  in  Hartridge,  a 
visit  which  they  had  made,  and,  according  to  reports 
on  their  return,  enjoyed  immensely. 

"  You  can  pay  your  money  and  take  your  choice,  of 
course,"  Tom  wrote  derisively  at  the  end  of  this  inter- 
esting news,  which  he  sent  in  advance  of  Esther  her- 


26O  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

self,  "but  it's  ancestors  or  Esther,  you  can  count  on 
that.  Maybe  the  young  men  out  your  way  care 
more  about  their  great-great-grandfathers  than  they 
do  about  girls,  but  in  this  part  of  the  country  it  would 
be  safer  to  bet  on  the  girl." 

Kate  sniffed  at  this,  and  responded  promptly  that 
the  young  men  in  her  part  of  the  country,  so  far  as 
she  was  acquainted  with  them,  didn't  trouble  them- 
selves about  their  great-great-grandfathers  at  all;  and 
the  mental  workings  of  one  who  gave  his  time  to 
the  business  —  as  Mr.  Hadley  certainly  did  in  the 
earlier  part  of  the  summer  —  were  beyond  her.  To 
which  she  added  —  what  was  clearly  another  matter 
—  that  even  if  Mr.  Hadley  had  taken  a  fancy  to 
Esther,  it  was  by  no  means  certain  that  she  had  a 
fancy  for  him. 

She  waited  with  some  impatience  for  Esther's  ac- 
count of  the  visit,  and  the  letter  which  came  shortly 
certainly  bore  out  Tom's  impression  that  she  had 
enjoyed  it.  It  seemed  that  Mr.  Hadley's  father  was 
extremely  anxious  to  meet  Deacon  Saxon,  but  being 
somewhat  infirm  of  health  and  indisposed  for  so  long 
a  ride,  had  urgently  begged  the  old  gentleman  to 
come  to  him,  —  with  his  granddaughter,  of  course,  — 
and  the  two  had  taken  the  drive  to  Hartridge  one 
day  with  all  the  pleasure  in  life.  The  Hadleys'  summer 


THE  NABOB  MAKES  AN  IMPRESSION.       26 1 

home,  Esther  wrote,  was  perfectly  beautiful,  much 
more  so  in  outward  aspect  than  the  Boston  house,  with 
its  straight  brown  front,  and  inside  it  was  apparently 
a  bower  of  loveliness.  Such  simple  but  elegant  fur- 
nishings, such  devices  for  making  summer  leisure 
redolent  of  rest  and  culture  !  Ah  !  It  was  a  theme  to 
inspire  her  pen,  and  she  grew  fairly  eloquent  over  it. 

It  appeared,  too,  that  Mr.  Hadley  had  been  more 
charming  than  ever,  and  his  family  were  delightful. 
There  had  been  a  married  sister  from  Boston  there  on 
a  visit  who  had  been  more  than  gracious  to  Esther, 
and  had  assured  her  that  she  should  count  on  seeing 
much  of  her  during  the  winter.  Altogether,  it  seemed 
to  have  been  an  idyllic  day.  Kate  read  the  letter 
aloud  to  the  family,  then  laid  it  down  without  joining 
in  the  general  comment.  She  was  half  vexed  that 
her  sister  should  have  had  so  good  a  time,  and  she 
really  wished  that  Mr.  Philip  Hadley  were  not  quite 
so  agreeable. 

But  there  were  certain  other  people  whose  agreeable 
qualities  she  did  not  find  so  exasperating.  The  sight 
of  one  of  them,  coming  to  the  house  that  afternoon  in 
the  edge  of  twilight,  sent  her  flying  out  to  meet  him 
with  a  cry  of  delight. 

"  Mort  Elwell !  "  she  exclaimed,  almost  running  into 
his  arms;  "oh,  but  I'm  glad  to  see  you!  " 


262  WHEAT   AND   HUCKLEBERRIES. 

"Well,  you'd  better  believe  I'm  glad  to  see  you,"  he 
replied.  And  then  they  clasped  hands  and  beamed  at 
each  other  for  a  minute  like  brother  and  sister. 

"  My  !  how  tall  you're  getting  !  Has  Esther  been 
growing  like  that  this  summer  ? "  he  demanded,  as 
they  walked  together  to  the  house. 

"  The  first  question,  of  course,"  she  replied,  trying 
to  pout.  "  I'm  sure  I  can't  tell.  I  don't  believe  there's 
any  difference  in  me,  only  you've  forgotten  how  I 
looked  when  I  went  away." 

Forgotten !  Not  he.  He  protested  that  he  remem- 
bered just  how  high  she  had  come  above  his  shoulders 
when  she  stood  on  the  threshing  machine  that  day 
last  summer.  And  then  they  both  laughed.  How  long 
ago  it  seemed,  that  harvesting  at  the  farm ! 

"  But  it  seems  longer  to  us  than  to  you,  Mort,  I  know 
it  does,"  said  the  girl.  "  So  much  has  happened  to  us, 
and  we've  seen  so  many  different  places." 

"  I've  seen  a  few  places  myself,  if  you  please,"  he 
retorted,  "and  there's  more  difference  in  them  than 
you'd  think,  especially  when  it  comes  to  the  eating. 
But  there  are  other  things,  besides  going  around,  to 
make  time  seem  long  to  a  body." 

They  welcomed  him  in  the  house  with  such  affection- 
ate cordiality  as  might  have  been  extended  to  one  very 
dear  and  near  of  kin.  Mrs.  Northmore's  eyes  grew 


THE  NABOB  MAKES  AN  IMPRESSION.       263 

bright  and  moist  at  the  sight  of  him ;  and  the  doctor, 
who  had  stretched  himself  on  the  lounge  five  minutes 
before  in  a  state  of  exhaustion,  declaring  that  nothing 
short  of  a  case  of  apoplexy  could  make  him  budge  off  it 
that  evening,  fairly  bounded  across  the  room  at  the 
sight  of  Morton,  and  shook  his  hand  with  a  heartiness 
suggestive  of  exuberant  vitality. 

"  When  did  you  get  home  ? "  was  the  first  question 
when  the  greetings  were  over,  and  "When  are  you 
going  away  ?  "  followed,  without  waiting  for  answer. 

"  I  just  got  in  on  the  train  this  noon,"  said  Morton, 
"  and  I'm  going  to-morrow  morning.  Can't  spend  any 
time  loafing,  you  know,  for  the  term  began  a  month 
ago,  and  I  must  get  there  now  as  soon  as  I  can." 

"And  you'll  have  back  work  to  make  up  the  very 
first  thing,"  said  Mrs.  Northmore.  "It's  too  bad  to 
work  so  hard  all  summer  and  then  start  into  your 
studies  at  such  a  disadvantage." 

"  I  think  I  can  manage  that  all  right,"  said  the 
young  man,  confidently.  "I've  got  money  enough  to 
make  the  ends  meet  for  a  while,  without  doing  any  out- 
side work,  and  it  won't  take  me  long  to  catch  up." 

"  Well,  don't  make  too  brilliant  a  run,  Mort,"  said 
the  doctor,  dryly.  "  I  hate  to  see  a  good  proverb 
spoiled ;  and  all  work  and  no  play  ought  to  make  Jack 
a  dull  boy,  if  it  doesn't." 


264  WHEAT   AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

"  I  rather  think  Jack's  a  dull  boy  to  start  with,  if  it 
knocks  him  out  in  one  season,"  said  the  young  man, 
laughing. 

He  was  so  modest,  so  manly,  and  his  buoyant  energy 
was  so  refreshing,  that  it  was  no  wonder  they  all  sat 
looking  at  him  as  if  they  had  a  personal  pride  in  his 
doings. 

"  But  at  least  you  won't  have  to  teach  school  this 
winter,"  said  Mrs.  Northmore. 

"  Not  unless  somebody  relieves  me  of  what  I've 
earned  this  summer,"  said  Morton,  lightly.  "  In  that 
case  I'll  speak  for  my  old  place  again." 

"I'll  warrant  they'd  let  you  have  it,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  Oh,  they've  made  me  the  offer,  already,"  said  Mor- 
ton ;  "  besides,  I  hold  a  first-grade  certificate  to  teach 
in  that  county,  and  I  might  miss  it  on  examination 
somewhere  else." 

"  Not  much  danger  of  that,  I  fancy,"  said  Mrs. 
Northmore,  and  the  doctor  added,  growling,  "  Those 
examinations  are  a  good  deal  of  a  humbug.  For  my 
part,  I  think  a  few  oral  questions  put  to  a  fellow 
straight  out  would  be  worth  as  much  as  all  that 
written  stuff."  He  had  been  a  county  examiner  once 
himself,  and  had  a  painful  remembrance  of  the  "stuff," 
which,  to  tell  the  truth,  his  wife  had  mostly  examined 
for  him. 


THE  NABOB  MAKES  AN  IMPRESSION.        26$ 

"  I  rather  think  an  oral  question  that  was  put  to  me 
helped  me  in  my  examination,"  said  Morton,  a  gleam 
of  amused  remembrance  coming  into  his  eyes.  "  Did 
I  ever  tell  you  about  that?  I  had  just  finished  one 
set  of  papers  and  gone  up  to  the  desk  for  another, 
when  one  of  the  examiners,  a  dry,  shrewd-looking 
old  fellow,  leaned  over  and  put  this  question  to  me : 
'  When  turkeys  are  six  and  three-fourths  dollars  per 
dozen,  how  many  may  be  had  for  two  dollars  eighty- 
one  cents  and  one-fourth  ? ' ' 

"The  mean  thing!"  ejaculated  Kate.  "He  didn't 
expect  you  to  figure  that  out  in  your  head,  right  then 
and  there,  did  he  ?  " 

"He  expected  an  answer,"  said  Morton,  "and  do 
you  know,  as  good  luck  would  have  it,  I  hit  it  at  the 
first  shot,  and  gave  it  to  him  in  a  quarter  of  a  minute. 
I  told  him  jive,  and  that  was  right." 

"Well,"  gasped  the  doctor,  "talk  about  lightning 
calculators !  " 

"But  I  didn't  calculate  it,"  laughed  the  young  man. 
"  I  told  you  'twas  luck.  You  see  I  knew  the  answer, 
being  turkeys,  must  be  a  whole  number,  and  the  sum 
named  was  less  than  half  the  price  of  a  dozen,  so  it 
couldn't  be  six,  and  I  took  the  chances  on  five.  The 
man  that  asked  the  question  saw  through  it,  of 
course,  and  I  believe  he  sort  of  liked  me  after  that. 


266  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

But  look  here,  who  cares  about  county  examinations 
or  what  I  did  last  winter  ?  I  want  to  hear  about  this 
summer,  and  how  you  liked  New  England.  Start  in, 
Kate,  and  tell  me  everything." 

"'Only  that  and  nothing  more?'"  she  said,  lifting 
her  hands.  "  Why,  I  intend  to  give  out  my  experiences 
sparingly,  and  embellish  my  conversation  with  them 
for  the  rest  of  my  life.  But  we  did  have  a  glorious 
time — I'll  tell  you  so  much.  And  New  England's 
great.  If  you've  any  doubts  on  that  point  you  may 
as  well  give  them  up  right  here  and  now.  It's  funny, 
some  of  it,  of  course ;  the  little  fields,  and  the  stone 
walls,  and  the  ox-teams  —  but  you  get  used  to  those 
things,  you  know;  and  the  people  are  nice.  It's  the 
next  best  thing  to  living  out  here  —  it  really  is  —  to 
live  in  the  Old  Bay  State,  as  grandfather  calls  it." 

And  then,  with  an  abandon  which  hardly  tallied 
with  her  avowed  intention  to  keep  some  capital  for 
future  use,  she  threw  herself  into  the  doings  on  the 
old  farm,  the  attractions  of  New  England  villages,  and 
the  delights  —  oh!  the  delights  of  Boston  and  the 
sea,  with  his  eager  questions  drawing  her  on  and  fresh 
items  suggesting  themselves  at  every  turn. 

It  lengthened  itself  into  a  long  delicious  evening, 
and  after  a  little  the  young  people  had  it  all  to  them- 
selves, for  the  doctor  was  called  off,  and  not  to  a 


THE  NABOB  MAKES  AN  IMPRESSION.       26/ 

case  of  apoplexy  either,  only  to  a  child  who  had  put 
a  button  into  his  ear;  and  a  neighbor  dropped  in,  to 
whose  troubles  Mrs.  Northmore  must  give  her  sympa- 
thizing attention. 

There  was  one  subject  on  which  the  young  man's 
interest  showed  itself  keen  at  a  score  of  points  in  the 
course  of  Kate's  vivacious  talk.  Did  Esther  look  at 
this  and  that  as  her  sister  did  ?  Did  she  note  the 
contrasts  with  a  touch  of  pride  and  pleasure  in  the 
ways  at  home  ?  Was  she  wholly  glad  to  stay  behind  ? 
And  might  it  not  be  longer  than  the  winter,  much 
longer  perhaps,  before  she  would  be  at  home  again. 

As  to  the  last  point  Kate  eagerly  denied  the  danger. 
The  other  questions  she  answered  more  slowly,  but 
with  her  usual  frankness.  Esther  had  been  more  in 
love  with  New  England  than  herself;  she  had  not 
criticised  things  —  oh,  dear,  she  had  never  quar- 
relled with  anybody  in  behalf  of  her  native  state; 
and  she  had  been  perfectly  delighted  with  the  invi- 
tation to  stay,  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  that.  And 
then  she  was  silent,  her  face  lengthening  a  little,  as 
she  thought  of  the  one  who  gave  the  invitation. 

The  young  man  had  listened  with  the  closest  atten- 
tion while  she  talked,  and  he  gave  a  little  sigh  when 
she  finished.  "  I'm  afraid  I  shan't  know  as  much 
about  things  that  are  happening  there  now  as  I  did 


268  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

before  you  came  away,"  he  said  wistfully.  "You 
were  ever  so  good  about  writing  to  me,  Kate.  I 
haven't  had  but  one  letter  since  you  came  away." 

His  eyes  wandered  as  he  spoke  to  that  letter  with 
its  well-known  writing  lying  on  the  table,  and  it  was 
not  the  first  time  since  he  came  in  that  they  had 
moved  in  that  direction.  Kate  noted  the  hungry 
look,  and  felt  mean. 

"We  had  one  to-day,  and  she  is  perfectly  well," 
she  said  uneasily.  And  then  she  would  have  changed 
the  subject  but  that  Virgie,  who  was  so  little  given 
to  conversation  that  her  occasional  contributions  were 
the  more  dangerous,  spoke  up  just  then  and  said  it 
was  such  an  interesting  letter,  all  about  a  visit  Esther 
had  made  with  grandfather ;  Kate  had  read  it  to  them 
all,  and  it  was  beautiful. 

"  Can't  I  hear  it  too  ?  "  said  Morton,  boldly. 

There  was  no  help  for  it  now,  and  Kate  walked 
soberly  to  the  table.  There  were  one  or  two  pas- 
sages she  would  certainly  have  left  out,  but  Virgie, 
who  had  read  it  three  times,  would  be  likely  enough 
to  call  attention  to  the  omissions,  and  that  would  make 
the  business  worse.  So  she  went  straight  through  it, 
with  a  certain  hardness  of  tone  when  allusions  were 
made  to  the  charming  qualities  of  Mr.  Philip  Hadley 
which  made  them  all  the  more  emphatic. 


THE  NABOB  MAKES  AN  IMPRESSION.        269 

Morton  Elwell's  eyes  did  not  move  from  her  face 
as  she  read.  Indeed,  there  was  a  tenseness  about 
his  expression  at  moments  which  suggested  that  he 
was  holding  his  breath. 

"  So  you  see  grandfather's  taking  her  into  all  the 
gayeties,"  Kate  said  rather  nervously,  as  she  laid 
down  the  letter.  "  She's  a  wonderful  favorite  with 
grandfather." 

Morton  drew  his  hand  across  his  forehead.  "This 
Mr.  Hadley  is  the  one  who  went  to  the  graveyard 
with  her,  isn't  he  ?  Esther  wrote  me  about  that." 

"Yes,  only  'twas  Stella  he  was  with,"  said  Kate. 
"  Esther  was  with  grandfather." 

The  exact  arrangement  of  the  party  was  apparently 
not  the  main  interest  just  then  for  Morton.  "  And  he 
showed  you  around  Boston  and  Cambridge  and  those 
other  places  afterward,  didn't  he  ? "  he  queried. 

"Yes,  we  did  a  good  deal  of  sight-seeing  together," 
said  Kate,  and  then  she  added  hurriedly,  "he  and 
Stella  are  tremendously  up  in  art,  and  that's  why  he 
went  to  some  places  with  us.  He  wanted  to  show 
her  a  picture  in  his  own  house  for  one  thing.  Maybe 
Esther  wrote  you  about  that  too." 

"  But  he  knows  Stella's  gone  from  your  grandfather's 
now,  doesn't  he  ? "  said  the  young  man.  There  were 
apparently  other  things  besides  the  price  of  turkeys 


2/O  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

in  regard  to  which  he  could  draw  quick  deductions, 
and  his  eyes  searched  Kate's  at  that  moment  with  a 
look  that  was  straight  and  keen. 

"  I  don't  know  but  he  does,"  she  said  almost  pet- 
tishly. 

There  was  a  minute's  silence,  and  somehow  it 
occurred  to  Morton  Elwell  just  then  that  the  hour 
was  growing  late. 

"  I  must  be  going  home,"  he  said.  "  Aunt  Jenny  '11 
wonder  what  has  become  of  me." 

He  said  good  night  to  Virgie,  and  stopped  in  the 
hall  a  minute  for  a  word  with  Mrs.  Northmore.  Kate 
was  beside  him.  "  I'll  go  down  to  the  gate  with 
you,"  she  said,  as  she  had  said  many  a  time  before, 
and  he  seemed  to  expect  it. 

But  when  they  were  fairly  beyond  the  porch,  in 
the  shadows  of  the  shrubbery,  he  slipped  his  arm 
through  hers,  and  said  very  quietly :  "  Kate,  I  wish 
you'd  tell  me  the  truth  about  this  Mr.  Hadley.  He's 
coming  to  see  Esther,  of  course.  Is  he  in  love  with 
her?" 

"I  don't  know  that  he  is.  I  never  saw  a  thing  to 
make  me  think  so,"  said  Kate,  with  low  vehemence. 
And  then  (for  there  was  a  frankness  in  her  which 
would  not  let  her  stop  there)  she  added:  "Tom  says 
he  is ;  but  Tom  made  up  his  mind  to  that  right  at  the 


THE    NABOB    MAKES    AN    IMPRESSION.  271 

start,  and  he's  the  most  obstinate  boy  I  ever  saw 
about  his  own  opinions.  He  never  changes  his  mind, 
no  matter  what  good  reasons  you  may  show  him  on 
the  other  side." 

The  idiosyncrasies  of  Tom  Saxon  were  not  interest- 
ing just  then  to  Morton  Elwell.  Kate  heard  him 
draw  his  breath  hard  before  he  said :  "  Of  course 
he's  in  love  with  her.  He's  been  seeing  her  all 
summer,  and  he  couldn't  help  being.  And  she"  — 
he  paused  for  an  instant  before  he  added  bitterly : 
"  I  understand  it  now.  It's  knowing  him  that  made 
her  so  willing  to  stay." 

"Oh,  no  it  isn't,  Mort;  indeed  it  isn't,"  said  Kate, 
bringing  him  to  a  standstill  with  a  compelling  press- 
ure on  his  arm.  "  If  you  knew  everything,  you 
wouldn't  say  that.  It  was  Aunt  Katharine  that  made 
her  stay.  Oh,  if  you  knew  Aunt  Katharine !  She's 
a  dreadfully  strong-minded  woman,  and  she's  taken 
a  terrible  fancy  to  Esther.  She'd  like  to  make  her 
feel  just  as  she  does  about  woman's  rights,  and 
never  marrying,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  She's  the 
one,  not  Mr.  Hadley  at  all,  that  has  such  an  influ- 
ence over  Esther." 

"  Nonsense !  "  said  Morton  Elwell ;  and  he  said  it 
with  a  sharpness  that  for  an  instant  made  Kate 
almost  afraid  of  him. 


2/2  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

There  was  silence  for  a  minute  as  they  moved  down 
the  path.  Then,  with  the  sharpness  gone  out  of  his 
voice  and  the  bitterness  overflowing  it  again,  he  said : 
"I  don't  wonder  at  it.  He's  rich  and  agreeable,— 
you  wrote  that  yourself,  Kate.  He's  all  that's  delight- 
ful and  cultivated,  —  she  says  so  in  the  letter.  He 
has  everything  and  —  and  time  to  be  with  her,"  he 
added,  with  a  groan.  "  She  can't  help  caring  for 
him.  I  know  it  as  if  I  were  there  to  see." 

They  had  reached  the  great  horse-chestnut  tree  by 
the  gate,  and  the  moonlight  came  down  through  the 
half-leafless  branches  on  the  girl's  face  lifted  to  his. 
"  Oh,  it  won't  be  the  way  you  think,  Mort,"  she 
whispered  passionately.  "  Esther  can't  care  for  Mr. 
Hadley.  I'm  sure,  I'm  sure  she  can't!" 

"  Why  can't  she  ? "  he  asked,  and  his  face  looked 
pale  and  stern. 

She  caught  her  breath  with  a  sob.  "Because  — 
oh,  Mort  —  because  you're  so  much  nicer!"  she  said, 
with  an  utter  abandon.  And  then  her  head  dropped, 
and  a  splash  of  tears  fell  on  his  coat-sleeve. 

He  stooped  suddenly  and  kissed  her ;  then,  without 
even  a  good  night,  strode  off  down  the  road. 

It  lay  before  him  straight  and  empty  in  the  moon- 
light ;  and  he  followed  it  past  the  turn  that  led  to 
his  uncle's  house,  on  and  on,  taking  no  note  of  dis- 


THE    NABOB    MAKES    AN    IMPRESSION.  2/3 

tance.  This  fear  which  had  come  to  him  so  sud- 
denly—  it  seemed  already  not  a  possibility  but  a 
certainty,  and  it  stalked  at  his  side,  keeping  even 
step  with  his.  He  had  no  vanity  to  whisper  that 
there  were  other  attractions  besides  those  which  for- 
tune had  bestowed  so  lavishly  on  Mr.  Philip  Hadley. 
He  had  been  too  busy  all  his  life,  and  such  gifts  as 
he  had  were  too  inherently  part  of  his  nature  for 
him  to  turn  an  observant  eye  upon  them  and  mark 
their  value.  He  seemed  to  himself  a  homely,  hum- 
drum fellow  beside  this  other  who  had  stepped  so 
lightly  into  Esther  Northmore's  life.  There  was  envy 
enough  in  his  heart,  Heaven  knew ;  but  it  some- 
how withheld  the  thought  that  wealth  was  accidental, 
culture  acquired,  —  poor  things  at  best  beside  that 
inner  something  which  makes  the  man.  They  were 
good  gifts.  He  hoped  to  prove  it  for  himself  by 
and  by,  and  that  other  something —  How  if  Mr. 
Philip  Hadley  were  rich  in  that,  too  ? 

But  was  it  fair,  was  it  fair  that  he,  to  whom  only 
a  summer  pleasuring  had  brought  acquaintance  with 
Esther  Northmore,  should  steal  her  away  from  one 
who  had  loved  her  so  long?  His  heart  ran  swiftly 
over  the  past,  and  a  lump  rose  in  his  throat  as 
memory  brought  back  those  early  days.  She  was 
five  years  old,  he  seven,  when  he  came  to  his 
T 


2/4  WHEAT   AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

uncle's  house,  a  lonesome,  homesick  boy.  He  remem- 
bered how  she  came  across  the  fields  with  her  mother, 
on  that  first  afternoon,  in  her  little  red  shoes  and 
white  apron,  a  dainty  figure,  with  gentle  ways  and 
soft,  loving  eyes.  He  remembered  how  she  had  slid 
her  hand  into  his  and  whispered  she  was  sorry  his 
mother  was  dead.  And  then  they  had  played  to- 
gether, he  drawing  her  about  in  his  little  cart;  and 
before  he  knew  it  the  long  day  was  ending  and  a 
sense  of  being  at  home  had  stolen  into  his  heart. 
That  was  the  beginning,  and  what  friends  they  had 
been  through  the  childish  years  that  followed !  He 
remembered  how  he  bought  her  a  carnelian  ring  once 
at  the  county  fair.  The  ring  had  broken  next  day, 
and  she  had  wept  scalding  tears.  Alas,  there  was 
no  dime  left  to  buy  another,  but  he  had  promised  that 
she  should  have  a  gold  one  sometime,  with  a  shining 
stone  at  the  top,  and  she  had  been  comforted  with 
this,  and  promised  to  wait. 

Ah,  one  could  not  bear  such  memories  as  this.  He 
thrust  it  down  and  swallowed  fiercely  at  the  lump  in 
his  throat,  which  seemed  his  heart  itself  swollen  to 
bursting.  But  other  pictures  came  :  the  growing  girl, 
so  willing  to  take  his  help,  so  quick  to  give  her  own, 
so  proud  of  all  his  successes.  They  had  gone  through 
the  district  school  side  by  side,  he  only  a  class  ahead, 


THE    NABOB    MAKES    AN    IMPRESSION.  2/5 

though  older,  for  his  chance  to  begin  had  come  later 
than  hers.  How  many  times  he  had  worked  her 
problems  for  her,  how  often  he  had  gone  over  his 
boyish  debates  and  speeches  with  her  for  listener, 
on  the  way  to  school,  or  in  her  father's  orchard  when 
his  chores  were  done,  sure  that  he  had  made  his 
pleading  well  when  the  tears  sprang  into  her  eyes, 
and  the  quick  responsive  color  flushed  and  paled  in 
her  cheeks !  What  would  any  work  he  could  do, 
or  any  triumph  he  could  ever  win,  be  worth  to  him 
if  she  had  ceased  to  care  ? 

There  had  been  a  difference  in  her, — he  had  marked 
it  uneasily,  slow  as  he  was  in  the  steadfast  loyalty  of 
his  own  thoughts  to  guess  at  change  in  hers,  —  but  he 
had  said  to  himself  it  was  because  they  had  been 
apart  too  much,  she  at  boarding  school,  he  at  college. 
It  would  all  be  as  it  had  been  when  they  could  see 
each  other  again  in  the  old  way.  That  they  belonged 
to  each  other  was  a  thing  he  had  held  so  simply  and 
of  course  that  the  fear  of  losing  her  had  never  till 
now  really  entered  his  heart. 

And  then,  with  a  passionate  protest,  he  felt  him- 
self writing  to  her,  telling  her  of  his  love  and  calling 
her  back ;  but  swift  chilling  doubts  overtook  the  im- 
pulse. If  she  had  forgotten,  slipped  away  from  all 
this  of  the  past,  could  any  word  of  his,  across  the  cruel 


2/6  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

distance,  call  her  back  ?  He  had  no  art  with  his  pen, 
and  what  would  the  poor  meagre  page  be  worth  beside 
the  living  presence  of  this  new,  delightful  friend  ? 

The  bitterness  gathered  like  a  flood  in  his  heart, 
and  all  its  waves  and  billows  went  over  him.  He 
knew  nothing  of  the  beauty  of  the  night  nor  the  way 
he  was  taking.  He  had  no  sense  of  outward  things, 
when  his  name  was  called  suddenly  behind  him. 

"  Mort  Elwell !  Well,  upon  my  word !  I  thought 
'twas  you,  and  then  I  thought  it  couldn't  be.  When 
did  I  ever  catch  up  with  you  before,  on  a  straight 
road,  with  you  well  in  the  start  ? " 

The  young  man  turned  at  the  voice,  and  for  a 
moment  stared  blankly  at  the  speaker.  It  was  the 
New  Light  preacher,  his  friend  of  many  years,  his 
comrade  in  the  labors  of  the  early  summer.  The 
long  loose  figure  bent  eagerly  toward  him,  and  the 
sallow  face  shone  in  the  flooding  moonlight.  It  was 
impossible,  at  any  pass  of  melancholy,  not  to  find  a 
moment's  pleasure  in  so  warm  a  greeting. 

"  I  declare  I  didn't  hear  you  coming  up,"  said  the 
young  man.  "  I  was  taking  my  time  to  it,  and  wasn't 
looking  for  company." 

"  No,  I  reckon  not,"  said  the  preacher,  smiling.  "  It's 
toler'ble  late,  if  you  happen  to  know  it,  and  you're  a 
little  out  of  your  own  bailiwick,  aren't  you  ? " 


THE   NABOB    MAKES   AN    IMPRESSION.  2/7 

"  Over  in  yours  ? "  said  Morton,  noting  for  the  first 
time  how  far  he  had  gone.  "  Well,  it's  rather  late  for 
you  too,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  the  preacher;  "but  I've  been  over  at 
old  man  Towner's.  He's  having  one  of  his  bad  spells, 
and  this  time  he  won't  pull  through.  I  reckon  he'll  be 
done  with  living  here  in  a  few  days  more." 

"  Well,  it's  something  to  be  through  with,"  said  the 
young  man.  He  had  spoken  more  to  fill  the  pause 
than  for  anything  else,  but  there  was  a  dreary  note  in 
his  voice  which  fell  strangely  on  the  ear  of  the  other. 

"You,  Mort!"  he  exclaimed,  and  his  eyes  searched 
the  face  of  his  companion  for  a  moment  curiously.  It 
looked  tired  and  worn.  "  Just  through  your  work  ?  "  he 
asked.  "  When  did  you  get  in  ?  " 

"  Finished  my  job  yesterday,"  said  Morton,  "  and 
am  here  just  long  enough  to  pick  up  my  things.  Shall 
go  to-morrow  morning." 

"  And  start  in  for  another  stiff  year's  work,"  said  the 
preacher.  "  Well,  Mort,  you've  made  a  summer  of  it. 
I  hope  things  '11  ease  up  for  you  sometime,  and  they 
will,  they  will." 

The  young  man  lifted  his  head  with  an  impatient 
movement.  "  I  wish  people  wouldn't  pity  me  for  hav- 
ing to  work,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  care  how  hard  I  work. 
It's  the  easiest  thing  there  is." 


2/8  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

Some  fine  wrinkles  had  gathered  in  the  preacher's 
forehead.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  with  his  eyes  still  on 
Morton's  face.  "  It's  a  good  deal  easier  than  wanting 
work  and  not  getting  it,  for  instance.  Plenty  of  folks 
could  tell  you  that." 

There  was  a  touch  of  contempt  mingled  now  with  the 
impatience  in  Morton's  voice.  "  I  never  was  a  bit  afraid 
but  I  could  get  all  the  work  I  wanted,"  he  said.  "  Give 
me  my  head  and  hands,  and  I'll  take  care  of  that." 

"  And  not  be  so  proud  of  yourself  for  doing  it  maybe, 
when  you  get  to  my  age,"  said  the  preacher.  Then 
dropping  into  his  bit  of  a  drawl,  he  added :  "  But  there 
are  things  that  ain't  so  easy  to  come  by,  eh,  Mort  ?  It's 
a  fact,  man.  But  'Faint-heart  never  won  fair  lady,' 
nor  anything  else  worth  having." 

A  flush  rose  in  Morton's  face  and  he  sent  a  quick 
look  at  the  preacher.  The  shrewd  gray  eyes  were  look- 
ing at  him  kindly. 

"And  Stout-heart  doesn't  win  them  either,  some- 
times," he  said  bitterly. 

"Oh,  it's  chance,  it's  chance,  the  way  things  happen  !  " 

The  preacher  laid  his  hand  on  the  young  fellow's 
shoulder.  "  No,  Mort,"  he  said  with  a  peculiar  gen- 
tleness in  his  voice,  "  Stout-heart  doesn't  win  them 
always.  We  fail  of  them  sometimes  with  all  our 
trying.  God  knows  how  I've  wanted  some  things 


THE  NABOB  MAKES  AN  IMPRESSION.       2/9 

I've  missed.  But  there's  one  thing  we  needn't  miss, 
—  the  Lord  himself  stands  to  that,  —  courage  to  meet 
what  comes,  strength  to  go  without,  if  we  must, 
and  not  be  broken  by  it." 

The  young  man  stopped  in  his  walk  and  faced 
the  other.  "  Strength ! "  he  cried,  almost  fiercely. 
"To  do  without  the  things  that  make  everything 
else  worth  having  !  Where  is  one  to  get  it  ?  You 
could  hunt  for  work  —  I'd  take  my  chances  on  finding 
that  — but  this!" 

He  set  his  teeth  hard,  and  the  preacher  felt  the 
strong  young  figure  grow  tense  under  his  hand.  He 
drew  himself  up,  and  his  eyes  held  the  boy's  with  a 
compelling  earnestness. 

"Where  are  you  to  get  it,  Mort?  "  he  said  solemnly. 
"  From  the  One  that  gave  you  what  strength  you've 
got.  Do  you  think  He  bankrupted  Himself  giving 
you  and  me  the  little  sense,  the  little  power  that's 
in  us  ?  I  tell  you  there's  more ;  there's  enough  for 
every  soul  of  us.  Cry  to  Him  for  it.  Open  your 
eyes  and  open  your  heart.  It's  here,  it's  there,  it's 
all  around  us.  And  it's  ours  for  the  having." 

He  stretched  out  his  arms  as  he  spoke  with  a  wide 
reverent  gesture,  and  his  plain  awkward  face  looked 
noble  as  he  lifted  it  toward  the  sky. 

They  stood  together  for  a   long   still   minute   with- 


28O  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

out  speaking.  He  had  broken  in  upon  an  hour  of 
solitary  wrestling ;  the  older  man  knew  it,  and  he 
shrank  back  now  from  his  intrusion.  Suddenly  he 
turned  away.  "  It's  a  little  shorter  for  me  across 
the  fields,  Mort,  and  I'll  leave  you  here,"  he  said. 
"Good  night,  and  God  bless  you." 

It  was  past  midnight  when  Morton  Elwell  opened 
the  door  of  his  uncle's  house.  A  light  was  burning 
in  the  sitting  room,  and  his  aunt  rose  as  he  entered, 
dropping  from  her  lap  the  work  with  which  she  had 
been  filling  the  time  while  she  waited.  • 

"  What,  were  you  sitting  up  for  me,  Aunt  Jenny  ? " 
he  said,  as  she  met  him. 

"  It's  a  long  time  since  I  had  a  chance  to  sit  up 
for  you,  Mort,"  she  said  tenderly.  And  then  she 
added,  with  a  gentle  reproach  in  her  voice,  "  Don't 
you  think  you  ought  to  be  taking  a  little  more  rest 
to-night,  when  you  start  so  early  to-morrow  ? " 

"  I'm  going  to  bed  right  now,"  he  said.  Then  he 
put  his  arm  around  her  neck  in  the  old  affectionate 
way,  as  he  added,  "  A  fellow  has  a  deal  to  be  thank- 
ful for  that's  had  such  an  auntie  as  you  are  to  take 
care  of  him  all  these  years." 

And  with  that  manly  word,  and  a  little  quiver  at  his 
lips,  he  mounted  the  stairs  to  his  own  room. 


M 


CHAPTER   XV. 

ESTHER    GOES    TO    PRAYER-MEETING. 

EAN WHILE  autumn  was  gliding  away  at  the 
old  farm.  It  was  worth  Esther  Northmore's 
while,  as  Aunt  Katharine  had  suggested,  to  have 
seen  October  in  her  mother's  country.  Even  Old 
Timers,  used  to  the  glory  that  wrapped  its  hills  in 
the  shortening  days,  doubted  gravely  whether  they 
had  ever  known  a  fall  when  the  woods  wore  such 
gorgeous  coloring  as  now,  or  kept  their  royal  robes 
so  long.  All  the  world  seemed  flaming  in  crimson 
and  gold,  with  fringes  of  purple  at  the  roadsides,  and 
Esther,  walking  joyously  in  the  midst,  felt  her  pulses 
beating  to  a  rhythm  she  had  never  caught  before  in 
the  swinging  of  the  round  old  world.  Her  grand- 
father was  no  poet ;  but  he  liked  to  see  the  girl 
come  in  with  her  face  glowing  and  her  hands  full  of 
leaves,  which  always  seemed  to  her  more  beautiful 
than  any  she  had  ever  found  before.  Sometimes  he 
was  moved  to  remind  her  that  this,  too,  was  "vanity," 

281 


282  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

one  of  earth's  passing  shows,  but  she  protested 
against  this,  and  told  him  it  would  never  pass  for  her. 
She  should  keep  it  as  long  as  she  had  life  and 
memory. 

Very  often  in  these  shining  days  came  Mr.  Philip 
Hadley ;  once  to  urge  that  pleasant  invitation,  then 
to  make  sure  that  his  friends  had  returned  from  the 
trip  in  safety ;  once  to  bring  her  a  book  she  had 
wanted,  and  at  last  to  say  good-by  to  Ruel  Saxon. 
The  Hadleys  were  about  to  leave  their  summer  home. 
With  the  approach  of  November  it  was  time  to  be 
back  in  the  city.  There  had  been  an  eager  look  in 
his  eyes  as  he  added,  turning  to  Esther,  "  You  will 
be  going  about  the  same  time."  And  he  had  kept 
her  hand  longer  than  usual  at  the  door  as  he  said, 
"  It  has  been  delightful  to  see  you  in  this  lovely 
old  home,  but  we  shall  see  each  other  much  oftener 
in  Boston,  I  hope.  I  can't  tell  you  how  glad  I  am 
that  you  are  going  to  be  there." 

She  had  dropped  her  eyes,  that  easy  color  rising 
in  her  face  as  he  spoke,  and  then  he  had  said, 
"  Good-by  for  a  little  while,"  with  a  very  earnest 
pressure  of  the  hand  in  his,  and  ridden  away. 

It  was  late  when  he  left,  but  she  slipped  out  of 
the  house  immediately  for  a  walk,  and  for  once  there 
were  no  leaves  in  her  hand  when  she  came  back. 


IT  HAS  BEEN  DELIGHTFUL  TO  SEE  YOU  IN  THIS  LOVELY  OLD  HOME. 


ESTHER  GOES  TO  PRAYER-MEETING.        283 

"  It  looked  like  rain,"  she  said,  when  Tom  remarked 
that  she  had  stopped  short  of  her  favorite  woods. 

It  did  not  look  so  much  like  rain  but  that  Ruel 
Saxon  went  as  usual  to  the  prayer-meeting  that  night, 
and  of  course  Esther  went  with  him.  It  was  one  of 
the  standing  engagements  for  every  week.  Perhaps 
the  girl  could  have  spared  it  sometimes  —  there  were 
few  young  people  there  —  but  she  never  declined  to 
accompany  her  grandfather.  As  for  him,  it  was  a 
place  he  loved  ;  a  spot  in  which  his  own  gifts  shone 
conspicuous,  and  in  which  it  must  be  confessed  he 
sometimes  appropriated  more  than  his  fair  share  of 
the  time.  Why  Christian  people  did  not  all  and 
always  go  to  prayer-meeting  was  one  of  the  things 
he  could  not  understand,  and  it  really  seemed  to  him 
a  surprising  omission  that  there  was  not  an  explicit 
command  in  the  Bible  laying  the  duty  upon  them. 
However,  he  consoled  himself  with  the  admonition 
"not  forsaking  the  assembling  of  yourselves  together, 
as  the  manner  of  some  is,"  to  which  favorite  quota- 
tion he  frequently  added  that  he  should  not  forsake 
the  assembling  of  himself  together  as  long  as  he 
was  able  to  be  there. 

There  really  was  some  doubt  in  Aunt  Elsie's  mind 
to-night  as  to  the  last  point.  The  old  gentleman 
seemed  to  have  all  the  premonitory  symptoms  of  a 


284  WHEAT   AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

cold,  but  he  would  have  scorned  to  stay  at  home  for 
a  trifle  of  that  sort,  and  started  in  good  time  on  the 
long  ride  to  the  village.  He  bore  his  part  in  the 
meeting  with  unusual  unction,  and  a  number  of 
the  brothers  and  sisters  took  his  hand  at  the  close 
to  thank  him  impressively  for  his  beautiful  remarks. 
It  was  a  form  of  flattery  which  he  dearly  loved. 

Then,  as  he  jogged  home  behind  Dobbin  with 
Esther,  he  fell  to  talking,  in  reminiscent  mood,  of 
his  own  long  services  in  the  church,  and  this,  mak- 
ing all  due  allowance  for  that  cheerful  vanity,  which 
he  had  never  been  at  pains  to  conceal,  was  a  subject 
on  which  Ruel  Saxon,  if  any  man,  had  some  right 
to  grow  eloquent.  Ministers  might  come  and  minis- 
ters might  go,  but,  as  deacon  of  the  church  in  Est- 
erly,  he  had  gone  on,  if  not  forever,  at  least  so  long 
that  few  could  remember  when  he  had  not  held  and 
magnified  the  office.  He  had  sat  on  councils  to  re- 
ceive and  dismiss,  he  had  contended  for  the  faith,  he 
had  poured  oil  on  troubled  waters ;  in  short,  in  all  the 
offices  of  peace  and  war,  he  had  stood  at  his  post, 
and  none  could  name  the  day  when  he  had  shirked 
its  duties. 

"I've  seen  some  strange  doings  in  my  time,"  he  said, 
after  one  of  his  pauses,  "and  I  tell  you  there's  as 
much  human  nature  among  church  members  as  there 


ESTHER  GOES  TO  PRAYER-MEETING.        285 

is  among  outsiders.  Sometimes  I've  thought  'twas  be- 
cause they  needed  grace  worse  than  most  folks  that  the 
Lord  elected  some  of  'em.  I've  been  called  on  to  set- 
tle quarrels  among  professors  that  would  astonish  you ; 
and  I've  had  a  hand  in  their  love  affairs  too,  once  or 
twice,  when  they  got  things  so  tangled  up  that  they 
couldn't  straighten  'em  out  for  themselves,"  he  added 
with  a  little  chuckle. 

"  Love  affairs !  "  repeated  Esther,  catching  at  the 
chance  of  a  story.  "Why,  how  was  that?  Do  tell  me 
one  of  them,  grandfather." 

He  clucked  to  Dobbin,  drew  his  hand  across  his  face 
in  the  meditative  way  that  suggested  a  stroking  of 
memory,  and  began  slowly  :  — 

"  I  guess  the  queerest  one  I  ever  had  anything  to  do 
with,  and  the  one  that  bothered  me  most  in  my  own 
mind,  was  that  affair  between  Jotham  Radley  and  those 
two  girls.  You  see  they  were  both  bound  to  have  him  ; 
and  for  the  life  of  him  he  couldn't  seem  to  settle  on 
which  one  it  should  be." 

"  They  were  bound  to  have  him?"  ejaculated  Esther. 
She  bad  heard  of  two  lovers  to  one  lady,  but  this  sort 
of  a  case  was  new  in  her  acquaintance. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  as  I  or'  to  say  they  were,"  said 
the  old  gentleman,  correcting  himself.  "It  was  Huldy's 
mother  on  one  side,  and  'twas  Polly  herself  on  the 


286  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

other.  You  see,  Jotham  had  been  keeping  company 
a  good  while  with  Huldy,  and  folks  gener'ly  thought 
'twas  a  match  between  them,  but  he  got  to  carrying  on 
with  Polly  Green  'bout  the  time  he  was  building  her 
father's  barn.  I  always  thought  she  must  have  led  him 
on.  He  was  a  wonderful  easy  man  to  be  pulled  round 
by  women  folks,  and  Polly  was  a  smart  girl,  there's  no 
denying  that. 

"  Well,  it  began  to  be  common  talk  that  they  were 
engaged,  and  then  Huldy's  folks  spoke  out  and  said 
'twas  no  such  thing ;  it  was  all  settled  between  him  and 
Huldy  long  ago,  and  her  mother  showed  the  linen  she'd 
spun  and  the  bed  quilts  she'd  pieced  for  housekeeping. 
It  got  to  be  a  good  deal  of  a  scandal,  for  Jotham  was 
clerk  of  the  church,  and  some  folks,  specially  the 
women,  thought  it  or'  to  be  stopped.  So  we  deacons 
talked  it  over  together,  and  then  two  of  us  went  to  see 
Jotham  and  asked  him  how  it  was  about  it.  He  didn't 
say  much,  one  way  or  t'other — acted  sort  o'  queer  'n' 
shame-faced ;  but  he  agreed  the  talk  or'  to  be  stopped, 
and  said  he'd  have  it  settled  in  a  week. 

"  I  guess  he  found  it  harder  to  settle  than  he  counted 
on,  for  Polly  was  a  dreadful  spirited  girl,  and  Huldy's 
mother  was  the  kind  that  couldn't  be  put  off.  Anyhow, 
instead  of  easing  up,  the  talk  kept  getting  louder,  and 
Jotham  didn't  show  his  face  in  the  meeting-house  for 


ESTHER  GOES  TO  PRAYER-MEETING.       28 / 

two  Sundays.  Well,  the  deacons  felt  that  he  was 
trifling  with  'em,  and  that  time  we  went  in  a  body  to 
deal  with  him. 

"  Deacon  Simms  did  the  bulk  of  the  talking,  and 
he  told  Jotham  pretty  straight  what  he  thought  about 
a  man's  whiffling  round  between  two  girls  as  he  did, 
and  then  he  told  him  if  he  couldn't  settle  the  busi- 
ness for  himself  the  church  would  have  to  settle  it 
for  him.  At  that  Jotham  spoke  out  like  a  man  dis- 
tracted, and  said  he  wished  to  goodness  we  would. 
I  asked  him  if  he'd  abide  by  our  decision,  and  he 
said  he'd  abide  by  anything  the  girls  would. 

"  I  must  say  I  didn't  much  like  the  business,  but  we 
went  the  next  day  to  see  the  girls.  Polly  cried,  and 
took  on,  and  according  to  her  account  Jotham  had  cer- 
tainly said  some  wonderful  pointed  things  for  a  man 
that  didn't  know  his  own  mind.  As  for  Huldy,  she 
looked  sick  and  scared,  and  'twas  much  as  we  could 
do  to  get  a  word  out  of  her.  Her  mother  was  ready 
enough  to  talk,  but  Jotham  warn't  engaged  to  her 
anyhow,  and  I  stood  to  it  that  we  couldn't  settle  the 
thing  by  the  way  she  looked  at  it.  I  always  suspi- 
cioned  that  if  Huldy'd  spoke  up  and  freed  her  mind, 
she  might  have  made  out  the  best  case,  but  she 
wouldn't  do  it. 

"  Seemed  as  if  she  didn't  want  to  commit  him,  and 


288  WHEAT   AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

the  other  deacons  thought  'twas  a  clear  case  he 
ought  to  marry  Polly.  It  sort  of  'peared  to  me  that 
it  or'  to  be  Huldy,  but  of  course  I  couldn't  prove  it, 
and  anyway  'twas  three  to  one.  So  I  gave  in  to  the 
rest,  and  to  settle  all  the  talk,  we  had  Jotham  and 
Polly  published  in  church  the  next  Sunday.  They 
did  say  Jotham  turned  dreadful  white  when  they  told 
him  how  we'd  settled  it,  but  he  married  Polly  at  the 
set  time,  and  as  far  as  I  know  they  always  got  along 
well  together." 

"What  become  of  Huldah?"  queried  Esther. 

"Huldy?"  said  the  deacon,  reflecting.  "Well,  she 
stayed  single  till  she  must  have  been  upward  of 
thirty ;  then  she  married  a  widower,  and  everybody 
said  'twas  a  good  match." 

There  was  silence  for  some  time,  then  Esther  said, 
with  her  eyes  on  the  sky,  over  which  the  clouds  were 
shifting  uneasily,  "  Grandfather,  do  you  think  a  person 
could  have  any  doubt  in  his  own  mind  as  to  which  one 
of  two  people  he  cared  for  most,  if  —  if  he  was  really 
in  love  with  either  of  them  ?  " 

"  I  ain't  sure  but  he  might,"  said  the  deacon,  slowly. 
"  It  takes  a  good  while  to  get  acquainted  with  folks, 
and  I  don't  know  but  it's  about  as  hard  sometimes 
to  know  your  own  mind,  as  'tis  to  know  anybody 
else's  —  even  if  'tis  inside  of  you."  And  then  he 


ESTHER    GOES    TO    PRAYER-MEETING.  289 

added  briskly,  "  But  it  start's  to  reason  that  a  man 
or'  to  have  a  care  how  far  he  goes  before  he  gets 
things  cleared  up." 

She  seemed  not  to  hear  the  last  remark.  "  But  if  you 
had  known  a  person  for  a  long,  long  time,"  she  said 
insistently,  "there  couldn't  be  any  doubt  then,  could 
there  ? " 

Again,  like  the  wise  man  he  was,  the  deacon 
answered  slowly,  "  Well,  a  body  or'  to  get  his  mind 
made  up  in  a  reasonable  length  of  time,"  he  said. 
"  There  was  Nathan  Weyler  went  to  see  Patty  Foster 
every  Saturday  night  for  thirty  years  before  he  asked 
her  to  marry  him.  I  should  call  that  slow !  But  there 
is  such  a  thing  as  seeing  so  much  of  folks  —  being  so 
close  to  'em,  you  know  —  that  you  don't  really  get  as 
good  a  sight  at  'em  as  you  would  if  they  were  farther  off. 
It's  getting  your  attention  drawn  somewhere  else,  and 
seeing  what's  in  other  folks  sometimes,  that  wakes  you 
up  to  what  there  is  in  those  you  thought  you  knew  best" 

Esther,  whose  eyes  had  been  fixed  on  her  grand- 
father's face  intently  during  this  reply,  looked  suddenly 
back  at  the  sky.  She  had  thought  there  were  no  stars 
to-night,  but  she  was  aware,  all  at  once,  that  there  were 
four  or  five  shining  straight  before  her.  Had  they  all 
come  out  in  the  last  moment,  or  was  it  an  illustration 
of  what  he  had  just  been  saying  ? 


WHEAT   AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

Her  voice  shook  a  little,  and  she  did  not  look  at  her 
grandfather  as  she  asked  her  next  question.  "  But  if 
it  came  to  you  that  there  was  more  in  somebody  than 
you  had  realized  —  if  you  saw  more  to  admire  than  you 
ever  did  before  —  tJiat  wouldn't  be  enough,  would  it  ?  I 
mean,  it  wouldn't  be  right  to  marry  for  anything  but 
love,  would  it?"  She  broke  suddenly  off,  then  began 
again  with  a  nervous,  half-incoherent  swiftness.  "  That 
man,  for  instance,  that  you  were  telling  me  about,  and 
Huldah.  If  he  had  just  felt  sorry  for  her,  and  it  kept 
coming  to  him  all  the  time  that  he  hated  to  leave  her, 
because  —  because  he  had  known  her  so  long,  and  he 
knew  it  would  be  hard  for  her,  and  she  was  so  good  and 
true  —  all  that  wouldn't  be  enough  to  make  him  marry 
her,  would  it  ?  " 

Strange  that  she  should  be  so  deeply  stirred  over  that 
old  story  of  so  long  ago  !  Her  hands  trembled  so  much 
that  she  had  to  press  them  together  to  hold  them  still 
when  she  had  finished. 

He  was  a  keen-witted  man,  Ruel  Saxon.  Perhaps  it 
may  have  crossed  his  mind  at  that  moment  that  he  was 
being  called  once  more,  at  this  late  hour  of  his  life,  to 
lend  a  hand  in  straightening  out  some  tangled  skein  of 
love,  but  if  so  he  did  not  reveal  it. 

"  No,"  he  said  distinctly,  "  no ;  there's  nothing  else 
but  love  will  do.  It's  all  that's  strong  enough  to  last, 


ESTHER    GOES    TO    PRAYER-MEETING.  2QI 

and  it's  a  long,  long  thing,  giving  your  promise  to 
marry." 

And  then  that  shrewd  reflective  note  crept  into  his 
voice  again  as  he  added :  "  But  if  it  kept  coming  to  a 
body  the  way  you  speak  of,  to  be  thinking  of  somebody 
else  all  the  time,  and  be  sorry  for  them,  and  all  that,  I 
should  be  a  little  mite  doubtful  if  there  wasn't  some- 
thing after  all  besides  pity  at  the  bottom  of  it.  A  body 
wouldn't  keep  on  so  very  long  being  sorry  for  one 
person,  if  he  was  right  down  in  love  with  another. 
He'd  forget  about  that  one  before  he  knew  it.  It's  like 
Aaron's  rod,  you  see.  Some  things  get  swallowed  up 
terrible  quick  when  the  one  that's  bigger  and  more  alive 
stretches  itself  out  among  "em." 

She  did  not  ask  any  more  questions.  She  kept  her 
eyes  on  the  stars  for  a  long  time  after  that.  And  her 
grandfather  spoke  to  Dobbin  presently  in  a  tone  of  im- 
patience. "  Get  up ;  get  up ;  it's  time  we  were  home  long 
ago." 

It  was  certainly  later  than  usual  when  they  drew  up 
at  the  door.  Aunt  Elsie  opened  it,  looking  out  rather 
anxiously  when  the  wheels  of  the  carriage  stopped.  "  I 
guess  we've  been  a  little  longer  than  common  on  the 
way,  we've  had  so  much  to  talk  about,"  said  the  old 
gentleman,  cheerfully.  Then,  as  he  got  down  from  the 
carriage,  and  left  it  in  the  hands  of  Tom,  who  stood 


292  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

ready  with  the  lantern,  he  added,  stretching  himself,  "I 
declare,  I  feel  sort  o'  chilly  and  stiff  in  the  joints. 
Mebbe  I'd  better  have  a  little  sup  of  something  warm 
before  I  get  into  bed." 

Esther  had  thought  that  would  be  the  last  time  of 
going  to  prayer-meeting  with  her  grandfather,  and 
so  it  proved,  but  not  because  she  had  taken  her  flight 
before  the  next  Wednesday  evening  came.  Perhaps 
it  was  a  cold  settling  upon  him  with  the  raw  gray 
weather  which  November  ushered  in,  but  he  was 
feverish  next  morning,  and  kept  the  house,  complain- 
ing of  draughts  which  no  one  else  felt,  and  a  little 
querulous,  as  he  was  apt  to  be  when  anything  ailed 
that  outer  man  in  whose  general  soundness  he  took 
such  pride. 

For  three  days  he  sat  by  the  fire,  swallowing  boneset 
tea  in  quantities  and  of  a  degree  of  bitterness  which 
filled  the  household,  especially  Esther,  with  admiration; 
but  he  sternly  rejected  Aunt  Elsie's  suggestion  that  he 
should  send  for  a  physician,  being  in  practice  disposed 
to  the  opinion  that  a  man  had  no  use  for  a  doctor  until 
he  had  reached  the  point  where  the  chances  were  against 
a  doctor  or  any  one  else  being  able  to  help  him.  He 
was  in  something  of  a  strait,  however,  when  Sunday 
came  and  he  was  clearly  unable  to  attend  church.  To 
admit  the  gravity  of  his  case  by  sending  for  a  medical 


ESTHER    GOES    TO    PRAYER-MEETING.  2Q3 

man  was  one  thing,  but  to  absent  himself  from  the 
house  of  God,  unless  such  state  of  gravity  existed,  was 
another ;  and  between  the  two  horns  of  the  dilemma  he 
tossed  painfully  all  the  morning.  In  the  end  Aunt 
Elsie  settled  it,  and  she  was  quite  willing  that  he  should 
take  what  grumbling  comfort  he  could  in  representing 
himself  as  a  martyr  to  feminine  insistence  when  the 
doctor  appeared. 

Evidently  the  latter  did  not  think  he  had  been  called 
too  soon.  He  sent  his  patient  promptly  to  bed,  and 
now,  having  advertised  himself  as  sick,  the  old  gentle- 
man obeyed  orders  with  the  meekness  of  a  lamb.  It 
would  be  only  a  few  days,  of  course ;  but  while  it  lasted 
he  meant  to  make  the  most  of  his  case,  and  take  his  full 
dues  in  the  way  of  sympathy  and  attention. 

That  the  minister  would  come  promptly  was 
certain,  and  there  would  be  opportunity  for  testing 
the  fidelity  of  his  brother  deacons  to  the  duty  of 
visiting  the  sick  and  afflicted.  Undoubtedly  there 
would  be  prayers  sent  up  in  his  behalf  from  the 
pulpit  and  at  the  Wednesday  evening  prayer-meeting, 
and  —  let  us  not  judge  the  good  man  too  severely! 
his  own  gift  in  prayer  was  of  no  common  order  — 
he  really  hoped  the  petitions  would  be  well  expressed. 
As  for  his  own  family,  it  went  without  saying  that 
they  would  wait  upon  him  with  unfailing  attention, 


294  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

while  he  lay,  as  he  plaintively  expressed  it,  on  his 
"bed  of  pain  and  languishment " ;  and  feminine  at- 
tentions were  dear  to  the  soul  of  Ruel  Saxon. 

He  did  not  have  to  suggest  to  Esther  that  she 
should  delay  her  departure  for  Boston.  Indeed,  it  is 
possible  that  he  forgot  her  plans  altogether,  and  she 
remembered  them  herself  only  to  say  quietly  to  Aunt 
Elsie,  "  I  shall  stay,  of  course,  till  he  is  better.  I 
couldn't  think  of  leaving  him  now,  and  perhaps  I 
can  be  some  help  to  you  in  taking  care  of  him." 

Aunt  Elsie  was  not  an  effusive  woman,  but  the 
tone  in  which  she  said,  "  It'll  be  a  real  comfort  to 
have  you  here,"  made  the  girl  look  happy.  She 
meant  to  slip  across  the  fields  later  in  the  day  and 
tell  Aunt  Katharine  that  her  going  had  been  post- 
poned, but  her  grandfather  grew  restless  as  the  day 
wore  on,  and  seemed  to  feel  neglected  if  some  one 
were  not  constantly  at  his  side. 

"  I  really  think  Aunt  Katharine  ought  to  know  it," 
she  said  at  supper,  and  Tom,  who  was  sitting  at  the 
table,  responded  promptly,  "  I'll  go  and  tell  her,  if 
you  want  me  to." 

"Will  you?"  she  said  eagerly.  "Thank  you,  Tom. 
Tell  her  I'll  come  down  and  see  her  myself  as  soon 
as  grandfather  gets  a  little  better." 

"  And   don't  let  her   feel   too   much   worried   about 


ESTHER    GOES    TO    PRAYER-MEETING.  2Q5 

him,"  cautioned  his  mother.  "He  isn't  any  worse 
than  he  was  last  week,  only  he's  in  bed,  and  that 
makes  him  seem  worse." 

"All  right,"  said  Tom,  "I'll  go  as  soon  as  I'm 
through  milking." 

Esther  thanked  him  again,  though  in  her  heart 
she  would  rather  he  had  proposed  to  spend  an  hour 
in  his  grandfather's  room.  It  was  several  days  since 
she  had  seen  Aunt  Katharine,  and  she  would  have 
liked  a  little  chat  in  the  pleasant  living-room,  where 
that  big  wood  stove  had  been  set  up,  and  the  win- 
dows were  growing  gay  with  old-fashioned  chrys- 
anthemums. They  were  the  only  flowers  she  ever 
kept  in  her  windows,  and  she  excused  her  partiality 
for  these  on  a  whimsical  plea  of  pity. 

"They  count  on  being  taken  in,"  she  said  one 
day,  when  Esther  came  upon  her  in  the  garden  pot- 
ting them  for  the  winter.  "They  know  they  can't 
do  half  their  blossoming  outdoors  at  this  time  o' 
year,  but  that's  the  way  they  time  it  every  season. 
Look  at  those  buds,  thick  as  spatter,  and  they  won't 
half  of  'em  have  a  chance  to  show  their  color  unless 
somebody  goes  to  the  trouble  of  taking  'em  in  and 
doing  for  'em.  I  hate  to  see  things  go  so  far  and 

then  make  a  fizzle  of  it."     And  she  had  pressed  the 

* 
earth   about   their   roots   in   the   big    stone    jars   with 


296  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

a  carefulness  of  touch  and  a  look  of  exasperated 
patience  which  the  girl  had  enjoyed  immensely. 

The  friendship  which  to  others  seemed  so  odd 
seemed  to  her  now  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world, 
and  more  and  more  she  valued  it.  Once,  in  the  sore- 
ness of  that  clash  with  Kate,  she  had  poured  out  her 
heart  to  her  mother.  Perhaps  Kate  had  done  so  too 
in  the  days  that  followed  her  return;  but  the  reply 
which  Mrs.  Northmore  made  had  cleared  the  atmos- 
phere for  Esther,  at  least,  and  left  the  intimacy  free 
and  untroubled. 

"  My  dear  child,"  she  wrote,  "  I  am  sure  you  will  not 
believe  that  I  share  your  sister's  uneasiness  over  your 
friendship  with  Aunt  Katharine.  The  questions  over 
which  she  has  brooded  so  long  are  real  and  vital,  and 
I  am  not  sorry  that  you  should  come  to  know  them 
through  knowing  one  who  holds  her  views  upon  them 
with  such  deep  and  unselfish  earnestness  as  your  Aunt 
Katharine.  A  braver  or  truer  heart  than  hers  I  have 
never  known.  But  it  must  have  occurred  to  you  —  if  not, 
it  surely  will  later  —  that  she  sees  only  one  side  of  some 
of  the  great  facts  of  our  woman's  life.  The  reformer  who 
sees  only  one  side  of  any  question  is  needed,  no  doubt, 
to  startle  others  into  recognition  of  facts  they  would 
otherwise  miss,  but  in  the  end  the  reform  must  depend 
on  those  who  see  both  sides,  and  see  them  with  steady 


ESTHER    GOES    TO    PRAYER-MEETING. 

fairness.  If  your  life  shall  be  as  happy  as  I  hope  it 
may  be,  I  cannot  think  you  will  permanently  hold  some 
of  Aunt  Katharine's  opinions;  but  meanwhile  I  would 
not  have  you  shut  your  heart  to  her  or  her  word.  Oh, 
believe  me,  my  dear,  there  is  no  eye-opener  in  the 
world  like  love." 

The  old  woman  was  drawing  the  shades  behind  the 
chrysanthemums  in  the  windows  when  Tom  came  to 
her  house  in  the  dusk  of  that  evening.  He  had  ex- 
pected to  deliver  his  message  at  the  door,  but  she 
insisted  on  his  coming  in  and  rendering  it  with  careful 
detail.  Certainly  he  did  not  err  on  the  side  against 
which  his  mother  had  cautioned  him.  Indeed,  if  the 
old  gentleman  had  heard  his  grandson's  statement  of 
his  case  he  would  probably  have  felt  a  strong  inclina- 
tion to  get  out  of  bed  and  go  to  his  sister's  at  once  for 
the  express  purpose  of  telling  her  that  he  was  much 
worse  than  the  boy  had  represented. 

Tom  was  not  inclined  to  anxieties,  and  a  certain 
inquisitorial  attitude  which  his  grandfather  had  main- 
tained during  the  past  few  days  as  to  his  own  work 
at  the  barn,  and  the  amount  of  care  which  Dobbin 
was  receiving,  had  left  the  impression  on  his  mind 
that  his  grandfather  was  not  suffering  as  much  as  he 
might  be. 

He   revealed   this   to   some   extent   as   he   answered 


298  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

Aunt  Katharine's  questions,  and  she,  after  putting 
them  sharply  for  a  few  minutes,  settled  back  in  her 
chair  with  an  air  of  evident  relief.  She  was  not 
surprised  to  learn  that  Esther  had  put  off  her  going 
to  Boston.  "  I  should  know  she'd  do  it,"  she  said, 
nodding,  and  she  added,  with  a  peculiar  smile,  "  I 
s'pose  your  grandfather  hated  dreadful  bad  to  disap- 
point her." 

Tom  disclaimed  any  knowledge  on  this  head,  and 
then  remarked  acutely,  "  He'll  keep  her  busy  enough 
while  she  stays.  He  doesn't  seem  to  want  her  out  of 
his  sight  a  minute." 

"  Hm,"  said  Miss  Saxon.  "  I'll  warrant  he'd  keep 
'em  all  busy  if  they  were  there."  And  then  she 
remarked  casually,  "  It  must  seem  sort  of  quiet  at 
your  house  compared  with  what  'twas  this  summer." 

"  Kate  was  the  liveliest  one,"  said  Tom,  and  he  said 
it  with  such  a  tone  of  regret  that  his  aunt  looked  at 
him  keenly. 

"You  liked  her,  did  you?"  she  asked. 

Perhaps  his  secret  knowledge  of  that  interview  in 
which  she  had  worsted  Kate,  and  an  impression  that 
she  had  a  special  grudge  against  the  girl,  inclined 
him  to  the  unusual  emphasis  with  which  he  answered 
the  question. 

"  I  never  saw  a  girl  I  liked  so  well  in  my  life,"  he 


ESTHER    GOES    TO    PRAYER-MEETING. 

said.  "  She's  made  of  the  right  sort  of  stuff,  and  she's 
game  clear  through." 

"  Hm,"  grunted  Miss  Saxon  again,  beginning  to 
look  very  much  interested.  "  I  understand  you  'n' 
she  did  a  sight  of  quarrelling.  She  generally  got 
ahead  of  you,  didn't  she  ?  " 

"  No  marm,  she  didn't,"  said  Tom,  promptly.  "  I 
generally  got  ahead  of  her,  only  she'd  never  own  it." 

Aunt  Katharine  laughed.  If  anything  could  please 
her  more  than  to  have  a  girl  get  the  best  of  a  con- 
troversy it  was  to  know  that  she  had  kept  on  after 
getting  the  worst.  She  had  always  approved  the 
spirit  of  those  old  Britons,  of  whom  Caesar  complained 
that  they  never  knew  when  they  were  beaten. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  saying  she's  made  of  the 
right  sort  of  stuff?"  she  asked  suddenly. 

"Why,  I  mean,"  said  Tom,  hesitating  a  little, — he 
was  not  analytical  in  his  turn  of  mind,  —  "I  mean 
she's  plucky,  and  she's  out-and-out  about  everything. 
I'd  trust  her  as  quick  as  I  would  a  boy." 

"As  quick  as  you  would  a  boy!"  repeated  Aunt 
Katharine,  bristling ;  "  what  do  you  mean  by  that,  I'd 
like  to  know." 

Tpm  had  not  come  for  a  controversy  with  Aunt 
Katharine,  and  she  really  looked  a  little  dangerous 
at  that  moment.  But  he  remembered  suddenly  that 


3OO  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

word  of  Kate's,  that  the  old  woman's  manner  didn't 
"  faze  "  her,  after  the  first,  and  he  determined,  as  far 
as  in  him  lay,  not  to  be  fazed  either. 

"Why,  I  didn't  mean  anything  bad,"  he  said,  draw- 
ing a  little  nearer  the  edge  of  his  chair,  "  but  there's 
a  difference,  you  know.  At  least  you  would  know  if 
you  were  a  boy.  Most  girls  are  sort  of  sly  when 
they  want  to  get  anything  out  of  you,  and  they  do 
things  they  wouldn't  think  were  fair  for  you  to  do. 
But  she  wasn't  that  way.  She  always  let  you  know 
what  she  was  up  to,  and  when  it  came  to  fighting  she 
struck  right  out  from  the  shoulder.  But  I  wasn't  blam- 
ing the  rest  of  'em.  I  guess  it's  all  right,  being  girls," 
he  added,  rising  and  beginning  to  move  toward  the  door. 

Aunt  Katharine  rose  too,  and  brought  her  cane  down 
on  the  floor  with  a  sharp  thud.  "That's  it !  "  she  said, 
fiercely.  "  Boys  'n'  men,  you're  all  alike,  and  you've 
got  the  notion  already.  You  act  as  if  we  women  folks 
were  weaker  creatures  than  you  are.  You  make  us 
think  we  are ;  and  then  you  look  for  all  the  tricks  that 
weaker  creatures  use  when  they  defend  themselves.  It 
serves  you  right  if  we  do  use  'em.  But  it's  a  lie  all  the 
same,  for  both  of  us." 

She  drew  her  lips  hard,  then,  as  she  saw  his  hand  on 
the  knob  of  the  door,  she  said,  "  Tell  your  grandfather 
I'll  be  up  to  see  him  to-morrow." 


ESTHER    GOES    TO    PRAYER  MEETING.  3OI 

She  did  not  keep  the  promise.  The  rain,  which  had 
been  threatening  for  days,  falling  now  and  then  in 
drizzling  showers,  then  stopping  again,  as  if,  though 
still  in  sullen  mood,  some  vacillating  purpose  held  it, 
settled  down  at  last  for  steady  work.  There  was  a 
week  of  leaden  days,  with  the  rain  beating  out  all  that 
was  left  of  the  color  in  the  woods,  and  changing  the 
world  into  one  brown  monotony  which  melancholy 
seemed  to  have  marked  for  her  own. 

And  through  it  all,  at  the  old  house,  Ruel  Saxon  kept 
his  bed,  and  as  the  days  went  on  grew  no  better. 
There  was  not  much  pain :  a  little  fever,  a  growing 
drowsiness,  a  failing  appetite,  a  little  swelling  of  the 
limbs.  Even  the  doctor  seemed  not  to  know  what  it 
was  that  had  crept  so  suddenly  upon  the  active  frame, 
but  he  looked  graver  with  every  visit.  Once,  as  he 
added  another  vial  to  the  little  row  on  the  stand  by 
the  bed,  he  mentioned  a  name  which  the  sick  man, 
opening  his  eyes  a  little  wider,  repeated,  adding, 
"That  was  what  ailed  my  grandfather ;"  and  then  he 
closed  his  eyes  without  sign  of  uneasiness.  Perhaps  he 
remembered  how  much  stronger  in  all  its  seeming 
powers  was  this  body  of  his  than  that  worn-out  form 
from  which  the  spirit  of  the  grandfather  stole  away  at 
last. 

But  a  change  came  over  him  in  these  days.     He  lost 


3<D2  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

the  querulous  tone  of  inquiry  about  things  at  the  barn. 
He  seemed  to  have  forgotten  that  suspicion  of  his  that 
Tom  was  liable  to  let  Dobbin's  manger  go  empty. 
Once  he  said  to  the  boy  instead,  "  It's  a  little  hard  on 
you  and  Mike  to  have  it  all  to  do,  Tom.  I  wish  I 
could  help  you  with  the  husking." 

At  last  there  came  a  day  when  the  rain  ceased  to  fall. 
The  sun  shone  out  clear  and  bright,  and  the  clouds 
went  stately  across  the  sky,  to  the  measure  of  marches 
they  had  kept  in  October.  Mists  rose  from  the  earth, 
not  heavily,  but  with  a  lightness  suggestive  of  warmth 
still  in  the  breast  of  the  earth,  and  Esther,  stand- 
ing on  the  doorstep  of  the  old  house,  noted  that 
there  was  even  yet  a  little  greenness  among  the  limp 
stalks  in  the  garden  where  a  flock  of  birds  were  twitter- 
ing over  the  seeds  they  had  found  for  their  breakfast. 
"  I'm  so  glad  the  rain  has  gone,"  she  said,  drawing  a 
long  breath.  "  It's  pleasant  weather  that  grandfather 
needs." 

And  then  she  went  softly  into  his  room  to  tell  him 
how  the  sun  was  shining,  and  smiled  as  he  murmured 
in  reply,  "Truly  the  light  is  sweet,  and  a  pleasant 
thing  it  is  for  the  eyes  to  behold  the  sun." 

It  was  that  day  in  the  afternoon  that  Aunt  Katha- 
rine came  across  the  fields.  The  door  of  the  kitchen 
was  on  the  latch,  and  she  lifted  it  and  stepped  in 


ESTHER    GOES    TO    PRAYER-MEETING.  303 

without  knocking.  Perhaps  she  expected  to  see  him 
sitting  by  the  fire,  for  she  looked  before  her  eagerly, 
but  even  Aunt  Elsie  was  not  in  sight,  and  she  passed 
on  without  greeting  to  her  brother's  room.  He  looked 
quite  bright  as  he  lay  with  his  face  toward  Esther,  who 
had  just  been  giving  him  a  cup  of  broth. 

"Why,  Aunt  Katharine!  "  exclaimed  the  girl,  rising 
to  her  feet,  and  the  old  man,  lifting  his  head,  put  out 
his  hand  with  an  eager  welcome. 

"  So  you  hain't  managed  to  get  out  of  bed  yet?"  she 
said,  taking  the  chair  from  which  Esther  had  risen, 
and  looking  down  at  her  brother  with  an  affectionate 
smile.  "Well,  I'm  sorry  for  you,  Ruel."  Then,  a 
half  whimsical  expression  creeping  over  her  smile, 
she  added :  "  Tears  to  me  you  don't  hold  up  so  much 
better 'n  some  of  us  that  don't  claim  to  be  so  stout. 
I've  owned  up  to  it  for  a  good  while  that  I  ain't  as 
young  as  I  used  to  be,  and  there's  no  denying  that 
I  make  a  pretty  fair  showing  with  most  old  women 
when  it  comes  to  aches  and  pains,  but  they  hain't 
brought  me  onto  the  flat  of  my  back  for  the  last  ten 
years." 

"I've  been  favored  above  most,  Katharine,"  said 
the  old  man,  mildly.  "  I've  had  my  strength  and  fac- 
ulties spared  to  me  beyond  the  common,  and  I  can't 
complain  of  anything  now.  '  Shall  we  receive  good 


3O4  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

at  the  hand  of  God  and  shall  we  not  receive  evil  ? ' 
It  is  the  Lord's  will,  let  him  do  what  seemeth  him 
good." 

She  was  evidently  struck  with  his  reply,  and  for 
a  moment  looked  at  him  keenly.  "  I  should  have 
come  up  before  this,  if  it  hadn't  rained  all  the  time," 
she  said,  "and  I  took  it  for  granted  you  was  getting 
along.  But  I  guess  you  hain't  needed  me  any,  with 
those  that  are  here  to  wait  on  you." 

The  old  man's  eyes  turned  to  Esther  with  a  pecul- 
iar tenderness.  "No,  I  don't  want  for  anything," 
he  said.  "  Elsie  manages  everything  just  right,  and 
Esther  here  seems  to  know  what  I  need  before  I  get 
a  chance  to  speak  of  it.  It's  queer  now  how  she 
puts  me  in  mind  of  her  mother,"  he  went  on  mus- 
ingly. "  Sometimes  I  can't  get  it  out  of  my  mind 
that  it's  Lucia  sitting  right  here  by  me.  And  I 
hain't  been  out  of  my  head  either,  have  I  ? " 

The  girl  did  not  answer  the  question,  but  she 
stooped  and  kissed  his  forehead.  "  It's  nice  to  have 
you  think  I'm  mother,"  she  said.  "  Do  it  all  you 
please." 

He  smiled  at  her,  then  turned  with  a  sudden  wist- 
fulness  to  his  sister.  "  Katharine,"  he  said,  "  I've 
been  thinking  a  lot  about  you,  and  how  much  harder 
'twould  be  for  you  than  'tis  for  me,  if  you  should 


ESTHER    GOES    TO    PRAYER-MEETING.  305 

be  taken  sick  down  there  all  by  yourself.  There 
wouldn't  be  anybody  to  take  care  of  you  as  the 
folks  take  care  of  me.  I  wish  you  lived  up  here 
with  us.  I've  wanted  it  this  good  while ;  and  Elsie  "d 
be  willing,  you  know  she  would." 

"  She  wouldn't  like  it,  Ruel,  and  you  wouldn't 
either,  after  a  little  while,"  said  the  old  woman,  her 
swift  honesty  throwing  a  note  that  was  a  trifle  harsh 
into  her  voice.  "You  and  I  never  did  see  things 
the  same  way,  and  we  should  see  'em  more  contrari- 
wise than  ever,  if  we  had  to  stand  on  just  the  same 
piece  o'  ground  to  look  at  'em." 

The  old  man  lifted  his  head  with  an  obvious  ef- 
fort, and  his  breath  came  quick  for  a  moment. 
"No,"  he  said,  "we  never  did  look  at  things  just 
alike,  you  'n'  I,  and  I  guess  'twas  natural  to  us 
both  to  want  to  pull  the  other  round  to  our  way. 
But  I've  been  thinking  about  that  too,  Katharine, 
and  I'm  —  I'm  afraid  I've  riled  you  up  sometimes 
when  I  hadn't  or'  to.  You've  got  just  as  good  a 
right  to  your  way  of  looking  at  things  as  I  have  to 
mine,  and  I'm  afraid  I've  said  things  to  you  some- 
times that  warn't  becoming." 

What  she  might  have  replied  to  this,  if  a  neighbor, 
with  Aunt  Elsie,  had  not  entered  the  room  at  that 
moment,  is  not  certain.  A  pallor  had  swept  suddenly 
x 


3O6  WHEAT   AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

across  her  face,  and  her  eyes,  wide  and  startled,  were 
fixed  with  a  frightened  look  upon  her  brother.  She 
rose  from  her  chair  as  the  others  drew  near,  and 
without  responding  to  their  greeting  stepped  swiftly 
outside  the  door.  Then  she  beckoned  to  her  niece 
with  a  trembling  gesture. 

"  Elsie,"  she  whispered,  when  the  other  had  crossed 
the  threshold,  "  I'll  be  obliged  to  you  if  you'll  let 
Tom  hitch  up  and  drive  me  down  to  the  house.  I 
want  to  get  a  few  things  and  come  right  back.  If 
you  don't  mind  I'll  stay  here  a  while.  Ruel's  a 
dreadful  sick  man." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

IN  WHICH  SEVERAL  PEOPLE  GET  HOME. 

SHE  had  guessed  the  truth  first,  but  they  knew  it, 
all  of  them,  in  a  few  days  more.  They  knew  that 
Ruel  Saxon's  feet  were  set  on  the  downward  path  to 
the  valley  from  which  there  is  no  return. 

They  did  not  send  for  Stella.  She  had  her  work, 
and  there  were  enough  in  the  home  to  do  all  that 
could  be  done  for  him.  Still  there  was  little  pain,  a 
growing  weakness,  and  the  mind  wandering  more  and 
more  often,  but  always  peacefully,  and  oftenest  over 
the  years  that  lay  far,  far  behind  him.  Of  Esther  he 
seemed  almost  to  have  lost  knowledge.  He  called 
her  Lucia  constantly  now,  and  liked  no  one  so  much 
at  his  bedside. 

And  she  kept  her  place,  with  no  regret  for  any 
employment  she  might  have  had  in  its  stead.  There 
came  a  letter  from  Mr.  Philip  Hadley,  with  messages 
for  her  grandfather,  and  though  the  latter  but  half 
understood  as  she  read  them,  he  seemed  touched  and 

307 


3O8  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

pleased.  The  young  man  had  learned,  through  a  call 
on  Stella,  of  the  old  gentleman's  illness  and  the  conse- 
quent delay  in  the  carrying  out  of  Esther's  plan,  and 
he  wrote,  earnestly  hoping  it  might  not  be  for  long, 
with  kindest  expressions  of  sympathy  for  his  aged 
friend. 

And  then  there  came  another,  but  this  Esther  did 
not  read  aloud.  The  reading  to  herself  alone  left  a 
troubled  look  in  her  eyes  as  she  laid  it  down.  It 
seemed  that  Mr.  Hadley's  plans  had  suffered  change, 
too.  His  father  was  not  bearing  the  Boston  Novem- 
ber well,  and  California  for  the  winter  was  the  doctor's 
prescription.  He  must  go  with  them,  the  young  man 
wrote,  to  see  his  father  and  mother  well  settled,  but  it 
would  be  only  for  a  few  weeks,  and  by  the  time  he 
returned  surely  Esther  herself  would  be  in  Boston.  "  I 
confess,"  he  added,  "that  anxious  as  I  am  to  do  what 
I  can  for  my  father,  I  could  hardly  bear  it  to  be  away 
from  Boston  if  you  were  here  now." 

They  objected  to  her  sitting  up  with  her  grandfather 
that  night  on  the  ground  that  she  was  not  looking  as 
well  as  usual,  but  Esther  protested.  It  was  her  turn, 
she  pleaded.  She  had  had  the  promise  of  staying 
with  him  till  midnight,  and  indeed,  she  was  perfectly 
able.  So  they  let  her  have  her  way,  and  left  her  alone 
with  him  in  the  dear,  familiar  room,  with  the  lamp 


IN    WHICH    SEVERAL    PEOPLE    GET    HOME.  309 

burning  low  on  the  table,  and  everything  ready  to 
her  hand.  She  could  call  the  others  in  a  moment  if 
she  needed  them.  He  had  been  easier  than  usual 
during  the  day,  sleeping  most  of  the  time,  and  again 
at  moments  seeming  so  like  himself  that,  in  spite  of 
them  all,  she  could  not  believe  he  was  going  away 
soon.  Why  should  he  ?  Life  was  sweet  to  him  still, 
and  his  body,  till  now,  had  seemed  strong  and  active. 
What  was  that  length  of  years  which  people  named 
with  a  shake  of  the  head  as  they  mentioned  his  illness  ? 
It  was  not  years  that  counted  in  making  men  old.  It 
was  labor  and  loss  and  heartache.  The  labor  was  joy 
to  one  who  loved  it  as  he  did,  the  simple  labor  of  the 
fields,  and  of  friendly  service  among  his  fellows.  And 
of  loss  and  heartache  there  could  be  none  to  sap  the 
springs  of  life  for  one  whose  cheerful  faith  laid  hold 
of  the  eternities  like  his.  It  was  not  time,  surely  it 
was  not  time  yet,  for  the  silver  cord  to  be  loosed  which 
bound  Ruel  Saxon  to  his  work  and  his  friends. 

So  she  said  to  herself  with  the  easy  hopefulness 
of  youth,  as  she  watched  the  old  man  lying  there 
with  his  face  on  the  pillow.  He  grew  more  restless 
as  the  hours  went  on.  Memory,  while  all  the  other 
faculties  lay  sleeping,  seemed  to  bestir  itself  with 
unwonted  vigor.  Hymns,  quaint  and  long-forgotten 
in  the  churches,  rolled  one  after  another  from  his 


3IO  WHEAT   AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

lips,  and  Psalms,  so  many  and  with  such  unhesitating 
sureness,  that  the  girl  listened  marvelling,  and  won- 
dered if  he  knew  them  all. 

Then  there  came  a  change  in  his  voice,  and  his 
tone  grew  more  appealing.  It  was  not  recitation 
now,  it  was  exhortation.  He  seemed  to  be  warning 
sinners,  pleading  with  fellow-Christians.  Ah,  she 
caught  the  meaning.  He  thought  he  was  in  prayer- 
meeting  again,  and  the  zeal  of  the  place  had  eaten 
him  up  with  its  old  delight  and  fervor.  She  smiled, 
remembering  that  last  meeting,  and  bent  her  head 
closer  to  catch  the  words. 

A  strain  of  tenderness  crept  through  them  now. 
Solemnly  and  very  slowly  he  repeated,  "  Behold,  I 
lay  in  Zion  for  a  foundation  a  stone,  a  tried  stone,  a 
precious  corner-stone,  a  sure  foundation."  He  paused 
for  a  moment,  then,  in  a  voice  that  was  low  but 
strangely  clear,  went  on,  "  Oh,  my  friends,  do  you 
mark  the  word  ?  That  precious  stone,  that  head  of 
the  corner,  is  a  tried  stone,  tried  through  all  the 
years  and  proven  sure.  Tried"  —he  lingered  on  the 
word  with  unspeakable  earnestness  —  "  by  whom  ?  By 
Abraham,  by  Moses,  and  by  all  the  prophets,  men 
who  heard  the  voice  of  God  and  followed  where  it 
led  them ;  tried  by  Peter,  by  James,  and  John,  men 
who  saw  his  face  in  the  face  of  his  Son,  and  leaned 


IN  WHICH  SEVERAL  PEOPLE  GET  HOME.      3 1  I 

upon  his  breast  and  loved  him  ;  tried  by  all  the  host 
of  martyrs,  who  laid  down  their  lives  for  his  sake, 
counting  it  gain  for  the  joy  that  was  set  before 
them  ;  tried  by "  —  the  voice  sank  almost  to  a 
whisper,  and  the  names  of  old  neighbors  and  friends 
fell  lovingly  one  after  another,  the  names  of  fellow- 
farers  with  him  in  the  journey  of  life  who  had 
passed  to  their  rest  before  him.  Listening  intently, 
the  girl  knew  them  at  the  last  for  some  of  her  own 
kindred,  as  he  murmured  softly,  "  by  Caleb  Saxon, 
by  Joel  and  Mary,  by  Rachel  my  wife,"  and  then, 
after  longer  pause,  with  his  eyes  opening  wide  and 
a  tremor  of  unutterable  joy  and  humility  in  the  low 
glad  murmur,  "  tried — by — me." 

A  smile  flitted  over  his  face,  and  the  eyelids 
dropped.  She  thought  he  was  asleep,  and  moved 
noiselessly  away  lest  even  her  breathing  should  dis- 
turb him.  It  was  almost  an  hour  later,  and  the 
watch  on  the  table  told  her  it  was  time  for  his 
medicine,  when  she  went  again  to  his  side. 

"  Grandfather,"  she  said,  bending  over  him ;  but  he 
did  not  stir.  She  laid  her  hand  on  his,  and  the  chill 
struck  to  her  heart.  She  started  back,  and  for  a 
moment  stood  in  her  place,  almost  as  white  and 
motionless  as  he.  Then,  with  a  cry,  she  flew  out  of 
the  room,  calling  to  the  others  to  come,  the  others 


312  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

who,  with  all  their  haste,  could  never  again  in  the 
old  way  catch  word  or  look  of  his. 

For  he  was  gone.  With  that  last  word,  the  spirit 
so  bright  and  eager  —  ah,  yes !  so  impatient  at 
moments,  so  prone  to  the  hasty  word,  so  open  to 
the  little  vanities,  but  sound  at  the  core,  and  stead- 
fast to  bear  its  part  in  sun  and  storm  as  any  oak  on 
the  hills  —  had  stolen  away.  It  was  of  himself  he 
had  spoken  last.  They  mused  on  it  a  little  as  she 
told  them ;  but  they  knew  it  was  of  himself  as  the 
humble,  the  rich  recipient  of  grace  unspeakable,  and 
in  that  great  gladness  had  passed  on  to  the  Giver. 

They  bent  around  him  weeping,  the  older  women, 
but  Esther  was  too  stunned  for  tears.  She  had  been 
alone  with  Death  and  had  caught  no  hint  of  his 
presence.  She  had  never  guessed  that  he  could  come 
and  go  as  stealthily  as  this.  There  was  nothing  more 
that  she  could  do,  and  they  sent  her  away,  not  letting 
her  reproach  herself  that  she  had  not  known.  "  It 
was  not  strange,"  they  said ;  and  Aunt  Elsie  added, 
steadying  her  voice  for  the  girl's  sake,  "  It  was 
better  so ;  the  kindest  way  it  could  have  come." 

It  was  a  wonderful  night.  The  first  snow  of  the 
season  had  fallen  while  the  old  man  lay  dying,  and 
now  the  moon  shone  out  with  a  still,  white  glory, 
in  which  all  the  world  lay  new  and  clean.  In  the 


IN    WHICH    SEVERAL    PEOPLE    GET    HOME.  313 

orchard  beyond  her  window  some  boughs  of  trees, 
cut  by  the  saw  of  the  pruner  and  not  yet  gathered 
from  the  ground,  lay  glistening  like  great  branches 
of  coral ;  and  the  old  stone  wall  had  been  builded 
anew,  touched  with  masonry  of  silver.  Strange  how 
every  detail  of  the  scene  swept  in  upon  the  girl,  as 
she  stood  there  looking  out  upon  it,  wide-eyed  and 
silent ! 

It  was  a  picture  in  which  her  thoughts  would  frame 
themselves  again  and  again  in  the  years  that  were 
coming,  when  the  solemn  moods  of  life  should  bring 
her  face  to  face  with  the  things  of  the  soul.  And 
in  that  clearness  and  stillness,  things  which  had  puz- 
zled her  grew  plain,  and  she  knew  her  own  heart 
as  she  had  not  known  it  before.  She  could  not 
have  explained  how  it  came ;  but  before  that  great 
reality  of  death,  the  unrealities  of  life  slipped  noise- 
lessly away.  The  things  which  had  been  of  the 
surface  fell  off,  and  the  needs,  the  loves,  that  were 
deepest  only  were  left.  To  have  seen  them  once  in 
that  clear  light  was  to  know  them  for  what  they 
were,  and  she  could  not  afterward  forget. 

They  sent  word  to  Stella  in  the  morning,  and  late 
that  night  Tom  brought  her  from  the  station.  She 
had  not  loved  her  grandfather  as  Esther  had  —  she 
had  not  so  enjoyed  his  companionship ;  but  the  knowl- 


314  WHEAT   AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

edge  that  he  was  gone  brought  tears  and  genuine 
sorrow. 

"Dear  old  grandfather!"  she  said,  looking  down 
at  the  still  face.  "  How  we  shall  miss  him !  It 
won't  seem  like  home  with  him  gone."  And  then 
she  drew  her  mother  away  to  talk  over  the  details 
of  the  event  that  was  coming.  There  must  be  no 
flowers  about  his  coffin,  only  one  long  beautiful  sheaf 
of  wheat ;  and  she  would  have  no  crape  on  the  door, 
only  a  branch  of  evergreen  from  the  woods  he  had 
planted,  with  a  sprig  of  myrtle. 

It  was  at  the  church  that  the  last  services  were 
held.  The  rooms  at  the  old  house  could  not  have 
contained  the  throng  that  gathered  to  do  him  honor. 
He  had  been  a  diligent  attendant  at  funerals  himself, 
and  had  been  frankly  in  favor  of  extended  remarks 
on  the  character  of  the  deceased,  even  though  the 
custom  put  the  preacher  to  sore  straits  sometimes, 
when  the  virtues  of  the  departed  were  not  too  many 
or  luminous. 

Indeed,  he  had  been  known  to  excuse  the  preacher 
under  such  circumstances  for  blinking  the  facts  a 
little.  .  At  least  he  had  called  the  attention  of  cap- 
tious critics  to  that  funeral  lament  of  David's,  in 
which  he  distinctly  alluded  to  a  very  persistent  per- 
secutor of  his  as  "lovely  and  pleasant," -  —  language 


IN  WHICH  SEVERAL  PEOPLE  GET  HOME.      315 

which,  to  tell  the  truth,  had  really  seemed  to  Ruel 
Saxon  a  little  excessive,  and  had  led  him  to  wonder 
at  times  what  the  generous  psalmist  would  have  done 
if  he  had  not  been  able  to  couple  Saul's  name  with 
Jonathan's. 

There  was  no  lack  of  words  at  his  own  funeral, 
words  spoken  with  impressive  earnestness  and  warmth, 
and  it  was  a  tribute  to  the  wide  regard  in  which  Ruel 
Saxon  was  held  that  not  only  the  minister  of  his  own 
church,  but  others  from  towns  around,  begged  the 
privilege  of  a  part  in  the  service. 

"He  would  have  liked  it  if  he  had  been  there;  it 
was  a  funeral  after  his  own  heart,"  Stella  said,  talk- 
ing it  over  that  evening  with  Esther.  She  drew  a 
long  soft  sigh,  and  added,  "  I  declare  I  can't  realize 
yet  that  it  was  actually  grandfather  himself.  He  was 
trying  sometimes,  but  never  tiresome ;  and  life  will 
lose  part  of  its  spice  here  at  home,  with  him  gone 
out  of  it." 

Esther  did  not  reply.  Somehow  she  could  not  talk 
about  things  which  were  close  to  her  heart  in  the 
cool  way  Stella  could.  After  a  little  silence  the 
latter  said :  "  You'll  go  to  Boston  with  me,  of  course, 
when  I  go  back.  I  shall  stay  at  home  long  enough 
to  get  things  settled  for  mother,  and  there'll  be  no 
need  of  either  of  iis  staying  after  that." 


3l6  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

"  Stella,"  said  Esther,  speaking  very  quietly,  "  I 
suppose  you'll  think  it's  strange,  but  I've  decided  not 
to  go  to  Boston."  The  other  started,  and  she  went 
on  hurriedly,  "  I  should  like  to  be  with  you,  and  I 
know  there'd  be  a  great  deal  to  enjoy,  but  grand- 
father's dying  has  changed  everything  for  the  present, 
and  honestly,  there's  nothing  I  want  now  so  much  as 
to  be  at  home." 

For  a  minute  Stella  seemed  too  much  surprised  to 
speak.  Then  she  said,  with  a  peculiar  look  at  her 
cousin,  "  There's  somebody  besides  me  who'll  be 
dreadfully  disappointed  if  you  don't  come." 

Esther  returned  the  look  without  flinching,  though 
her  color  rose  a  little.  "  If  ypu  mean  Mr.  Hadley," 
she  said,  "  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  think  he'd  care 
much,  and  truly  I  don't  think  he  would;  at  least  not 
after  the  very  first.  I  shall  write  to  him.  I  must ;  for 
he  sent  such  kind  messages  to  grandfather,  and  he'd 
want  to  know  how  it  all  was  at  the  last.  I  think 
he'll  understand  how  I  feel.  I  can't  quite  explain 
it,  but  it's  home  and  the  home  people  I  want.  There's 
nothing  here  now  that  I  care  for  as  I  care  for  them." 

Stella's  eyes  were  on  the  floor,  and  she  did  not 
raise  them  as  she  said,  after  a  long  pause,  "  I  don't 
quite  make  you  out,  Esther,  but  you  are  an  awfully  nice 
girl.  I  wish  it  wasn't  so  far  between  here  and  Indiana." 


IN    WHICH    SEVERAL    PEOPLE    GET    HOME.  3 1/ 

"  I  shall  never  think  it's  far  after  this,"  said  Esther, 
giving  her  cousin's  hand  a  little  squeeze.  And  then 
she  added  cheerfully,  "  Don't  you  think  it  would  be 
nice  to  give  Mr.  Hadley  one  of  grandfather's  old 
books  ?  There  are  some  of  them,  you  know,  that  are 
really  very  curious,  and  he's  so  fond  of  those  rare 
old  things.  I'll  tell  him  that  you've  taken  one  for 
him  ;  I  believe  it  would  please  him." 

She  had  more  misgiving  as  to  how  Aunt  Katharine 
would  receive  the  news  of  her  changed  intention,  but 
not  from  her  either  did  she  meet  any  entreaties. 
The  old  woman  seemed  strangely  broken  by  her 
brother's  death.  It  was  she  beyond  all  others  who 
had  been  stricken.  An  apathy  which  was  wholly  new 
had  settled  upon  her,  and  was  only  shaken  off  at 
moments  when  she  talked  of  him. 

"  I  thought  he'd  outlive  me  by  years,"  she  said  to 
Esther.  "  I  always  twitted  him  with  thinking  that  he 
was  so  much  smarter  than  the  rest  of  us ;  but  he 
was,  and  I  used  to  think,  as  he  did,  that  he  might 
live  to  see  his  hundred  years.  I  don't  know  why  he 
shouldn't  have  had  'em."  And  then  she  added,  with 
a  quaver  in  her  voice :  "  I  wish  I'd  spoke  up  when  he 
said  what  he  did  the  day  I  came  in.  I've  riled  him  too, 
sometimes,  when  I  needn't,  but  it  took  me  so  by  sur- 
prise that  I  couldn't  answer  then.  All  I  could  think 


318  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

of  was  that  he  was  going  to  die."  She  drew  a  long 
sigh,  and  ended,  "  You  must  do  as  you  think  best, 
child,  about  going  home.  I  don't  blame  you  any  for 
changing  your  plans." 

She  went  back  to  her  own  house  the  day  after  the 
funeral,  in  spite  of  Aunt  Elsie's  entreaty  that  she 
should  stay.  "  It's  good  of  you,  Elsie,"  she  said,  with 
a  shake  of  her  head,  "  and  I  guess  I  could  live  with 
you  as  easy  as  I  could  with  anybody ;  but  I  should 
miss  him  more  here  than  I  should  anywhere  else, 
and  I'd  rather  be  in  my  own  place." 

They  let  her  go,  but  Aunt  Elsie  said  the  last  word 
with  affectionate  earnestness,  as  she  passed  out  at  the 
door :  "  Don't  be  sick  or  in  any  kind  of  trouble  with- 
out letting  us  know.  I'll  do  for  you  there  just  as 
willingly  as  here  if  you  should  happen  to  need  me." 

Three  days  later  Esther  was  gone  too.  She  took  a 
silent  farewell  of  her  grandfather's  room,  looked  long 
from  the  windows  at  the  hills  she  had  come  to  love 
so  much  and  stepped  out  of  the  family  circle  like  a 
daughter  of  the  house  whose  place  no  one  else  would 
ever  quite  fill.  Stella  went  with  her  to  the  depot, 
and  their  hands  unclasped  reluctantly  when  the  last 
moment  came.  There  were  thoughts  which  neither 
whispered  to  the  other,  and  they  wondered  as  they 
looked  in  each  other's  eyes  whether  the  time  would 


IN  WHICH  SEVERAL  PEOPLE  GET  HOME.      319 

ever  come  when  they  could  fully  tell  them,  but  Esther 
understood  best  what  the  silence  held. 

It  was  that  other  day  over  again  when  she  came  home 
to  her  own,  but  the  welcome  lacked  something  of  the 
boisterous  gladness  which  had  greeted  Kate,  and  the 
mother's  smile  was  full  of  tears  as  she  clasped  the 
girl  in  her  arms.  No  one,  not  even  Mrs.  Northmore, 
understood  exactly  why  she  had  given  up  the  Boston 
plan.  The  grandfather's  going  away,  in  the  fullness 
of  his  ripe  old  age,  hardly  seemed  a  reason  why  she 
should  relinquish  pleasures  which  had  looked  so  bright, 
and  an  opportunity  which  had  meant  so  much  to  her. 
However,  they  were  all  most  heartily  glad  to  have  her 
at  home  again,  especially  Kate,  and  the  latter  felt 
a  little  foolish,  remembering  that  morning  at  Aunt 
Katharine's,  when  it  appeared  from  Esther's  report 
that  the  old  woman  had  not  objected  at  all  to  her 
giving  up  the  engagement  which  she  had  believed 
to  be  planned  with  such  deep  and  deadly  designs. 
Really,  it  seemed  that  she  had  lashed  herself  up  to 
that  affair  and  been  disagreeable  on  quite  gratuitous 
grounds.  She  admitted  it,  to  herself,  with  her  usual 
frankness,  and  thanked  her  stars,  in  a  strictly  private 
manner,  that  no  one  but  Aunt  Katharine  and  herself 
knew  it,  save  Tom. 

To   Mrs.   Northmore,  watching    Esther   thoughtfully 


32O  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

by  the  steady  light  of  mother-love,  it  seemed  that  the 
girl  had  found  real  value  in  the  summer.  She  seemed 
somehow  older,  looking  at  things  more  quietly,  and 
with  a  leisure  from  herself  which,  in  spite  of  her 
ready  sympathy  for  others,  had  too  often  been  want- 
ing in  the  past.  It  was  an  aid  against  the  restlessness 
which  might  have  come  when  a  sudden  vacancy  in  one 
of  the  Rushmore  schools  brought  her  at  Christmas  an 
unexpected  offer  of  the  position.  She  accepted  it  with 
her  mother's  quick  consent,  doing  good  work  and  en- 
joying it,  as  well  as  the  pay  that  came  with  it.  Indeed, 
as  she  carried  home  her  check  at  the  end  of  each 
month,  she  was  impressed  more  than  ever  with  the 
soundness  of  certain  views  of  Aunt  Katharine's  on 
the  moral  value  of  earning  and  owning.  She  wrote 
to  the  latter  repeatedly,  and  once  Aunt  Katharine 
replied ;  but  she  was  not  fond  of  her  pen,  and  the 
letter,  though  affectionate,  was  brief. 

There  were  longer  letters  from  Stella,  letters  of  the 
chatty,  personal  sort,  with  a  generous  sprinkling  of 
family  news.  Mr.  Hadley  was  calling  often.  If  he 
had  sustained  any  disappointment  that  the  cousins 
were  not  in  Boston  together,  he  was  apparently  con- 
soling himself  with  the  company  of  the  one  who  was 
left.  They  were  going  to  art  lectures  and  symphony 
concerts  together,  and  the  married  sister  had  called. 


IN  WHICH  SEVERAL  PEOPLE  GET  HOME.      321 

"  It's  precisely  what  ought  to  happen,"  Esther  said 
to  herself  more  than  once ;  and  the  smile  in  her  eyes 
as  she  said  it  suggested  that  there  was  no  vagueness 
in  her  mind  as  to  what  the  happening  should  be. 
Sometimes  when  the  smile  was  gone  a  wistful  look 
came  in  its  place,  but  if  she  had  any  regrets  or  long- 
ings of  her  own,  she  told  them  to  no  one. 

The  spring  vacation  in  the  schools  came  with  the 
Easter,  early  that  year.  Esther  laid  plans  valiantly 
at  the  outset  for  work  to  be  accomplished  in  the  space 
between  terms,  but  she  had  grown  thoroughly  tired 
of  her  needle  on  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day, 
when  her  father  announced  suddenly  that  he  was 
going  to  drive  out  to  the  farm.  There  were  matters 
connected  with  the  spring  planting  to  be  talked  over 
with  Jake  Erlock. 

"What  do  you  say  to  my  going  with  you?"  she 
exclaimed,  dropping  her  work.  "  It's  ever  so  long 
since  I  went  out  there,  and  I  feel  just  like  it." 

There  was  nothing  Dr.  Northmore  enjoyed  more 
than  having  one  of  his  daughters  with  him  when  he 
took  a  long  drive."  "That's  a  capital  idea,"  he  said. 
"  Get  your  things  on  quick." 

Spring  was  coming  along  the  track  of  the  wide 
straight  road  by  which  they  took  their  way  to  the 
pretty  uplands  which  were  the  doctor's  pride  and  care. 


322  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

Here  and  there  broad  fields  of  wheat  were  already 
showing  a  tender  green  from  the  springing  of  the 
grain  which  had  lain  all  winter  under  frost  and  snow, 
and  between  them  new-ploughed  fields  sent  up  a 
pleasant  smell,  the  wholesome  smell  of  the  kindly 
earth  turning  itself  again  to  the  sun  and  the  rain. 

The  little  gray  house,  set  back  from  the  road,  wore 
its  old  shy  look,  and  the  occupant,  who  greeted  them 
as  they  drove  up  to  the  door,  seemed  like  one  who, 
in  his  solitary  wintering,  might  have  sat  asleep  on 
his  hearth,  coming  out  half  timidly  now  to  greet  the 
warmth  and  stir  of  the  world.  He  lost  his  air  of  un- 
certainty as  he  saw  his  callers,  and  welcomed  them 
to  his  kitchen,  which  was  orderly  as  ever,  setting 
chairs  for  them  about  his  fire  with  a  bustling  hos- 
pitality. Esther  did  not  keep  her  place  long.  A  few 
kindly  inquiries,  a  polite  listening  to  his  report  of  the 
winter,  and  then  she  left  the  two  men  together,  and 
slipped  away  for  a  stroll  by  herself  through  the 
orchard  and  along  the  edge  of  the  field  where  the 
threshing  had  gone  on  so  blithely  in  the  summer 
past. 

The  straw-stack  was  there  to  remind  of  it  still,  not 
fair  and  golden  now,  but  gray  and  weather-beaten 
from  the  winter  storms.  It  had  grown  smaller  with 
the  passing  months,  and  a  great  hollow  had  been 


IN  WHICH  SEVERAL  PEOPLE  GET  HOME.      323 

worn  in  its  side  by  the  browsing  cattle.  On  the  soft 
matted  floor  of  this  inner  shelter  lay  two  calves,  one 
with  its  pretty,  fawn-like  head  resting  on  the  dark 
red  neck  of  the  other.  They  turned  soft  wondering 
eyes  to  the  girl  as  she  looked  in  upon  them,  and  a 
sitting  hen,  so  near  the  color  of  the  straw  that  at 
first  she  did  not  see  her,  ruffled  warningly  from  her 
nest  in  the  side. 

She  did  not  disturb  them  in  their  quiet  retreat,  but 
sat  down  for  a  little  while  in  the  warm  friendliness 
beside  their  open  door,  and  thought  half-dreamily  of 
that  day  that  was  gone.  What  a  bustle  of  work  had 
filled  the  place !  She  could  see  the  puffing  engine 
sending  up  its  quick  black  breath  against  the  sky, 
and  the  great  crimson  machine,  like  a  chariot,  at  its 
back,  with  Morton  Elwell  at  the  front,  a  charioteer 
holding  the  car  of  plenty  on  its  way,  amid  a  score 
of  sunburnt  outriders.  How  confident  he  had  looked 
as  he  stood  there  in  his  workman's  dress,  bare- 
armed  and  bare-throated,  how  strong  and  steady ! 

She  smiled  at  her  own  fancy.  And  then  the  rest 
of  the  picture  faded,  leaving  the  one  figure  alone ; 
but  it  was  not  at  the  threshing  she  saw  him  now,  it 
was  at  home,  at  school,  on  the  playground,  and  every- 
where her  comrade,  her  champion,  her  friend.  Had 
he  been  something  more  in  those  old  days,  and  was 


324  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

he  still  ?  Ah,  if  she  could  be  sure  of  that !  The 
letters  had  lost  the  old  boyish  freedom  in  these  last 
months.  She  had  complained  once  that  Morton  El- 
well  took  too  much  for  granted.  He  was  taking 
nothing  now. 

Her  father's  voice  calling  from  the  house  roused 
her  at  last  from  her  revery,  and  they  were  off  again 
for  home.  He  was  thinking  too  busily  of  his  summer 
plans  to  talk,  and  she,  wrapped  in  her  own  thoughts, 
was  glad  of  the  silence.  But  she  broke  it  suddenly 
as  they  drew  near  the  substantial  brick  house  which 
belonged  to  the  Elwells,  almost  at  the  end  of  the 
ride. 

"  Suppose  you  let  me  out  here,  father,"  she  said. 
"  I  haven't  been  in  to  see  Mrs.  Elwell  for  weeks,  and 
I've  been  thinking  all  the  afternoon  how  good  she 
was  to  us  last  summer  at  the  threshing.  I  want  to 
go  in  and  thank  her  for  it  over  again.  I'll  come 
home  by  myself  in  a  little  while." 

She  hesitated  a  moment  whether  or  not  to  go  in 
by  the  back  way  in  the  old  familiar  fashion,  then, 
for  some  reason,  walked  to  the  front  door  and  rang 
the  bell.  The  mistress  herself  opened  it,  her  hands 
a  little  floury,  and  a  clean  gingham  apron  over  her 
afternoon  dress. 

"  Well,  upon  my  word !  "  she  exclaimed,  starting  at 


IN    WHICH    SEVERAL    PEOPLE    GET    HOME.  325 

the  sight  of  her  caller.  "  If  we  weren't  talking  about 
you,  Esther  Northmore,  this  blessed  minute !  Come 
in,  come  in.  Who  do  you  think  is  here  ? " 

She  had  not  time  to  guess.  She  had  not  time  to 
speak  the  name  which  rose  with  wondering  incredu- 
lity to  her  lips  when  the  owner  of  it  himself  came 
hurrying  through  the  hall  to  meet  her. 

"You!  "she  cried,  fairly  springing  to  meet  Morton 
Elwell.  "  Why,  how  does  this  happen  ?  " 

"  It's  vacation  for  me  too,"  he  said,  beaming  at  her 
in  the  most  radiant  manner.  "And  —  yes,  I'll  own 
it.  It  was  a  genuine  fit  of  homesickness  that  brought 
me.  I've  been  struggling  with  it  all  winter,  but  it 
was  simply  too  much  for  me  when  there  actually 
came  a  halt  in  the  school  work.  I  had  to  come. 
There  was  no  other  way." 

"Think  of  it,"  said  Mrs.  Elwell,  who  looked  so 
happy  that  there  was  almost  a  halo  round  her  head ; 
"think  of  his  taking  that  journey  and  coming  home 
for  a  week's  vacation,  when  he  could  hardly  afford  a 
day  off  for  us  all  last  summer." 

"It  does  seem  as  if  I'd  grown  to  be  something  of 
a  spendthrift,  doesn't  it  ?  "  said  the  young  man.  "  But 
you  can't  hold  yourself  down  all  the  time.  You  have 
to  break  loose  now  and  then.  And  let  me  tell  you  " 
—  they  had  reached  the  sitting  room  now,  and  he  was 


326  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

sitting  between  them,  looking  from  one  to  the  other 
like  a  happy  child  —  "let  me  tell  you  that  I've  taken 
the  Lisper  scholarship,  and  that  means  my  tuition  all 
the  rest  of  my  course.  Don't  you  think  I  could 
afford  to  give  myself  a  glimpse  of  home  when  I 
wanted  it  so  desperately  ?  " 

They  cried,  "  Oh !  "  in  concert,  Mrs.  Elwell,  whose 
ideas  were  a  little  vague  in  regard  to  scholarships, 
prolonging  hers  as  if  to  cover  the  comments  she 
ought  to  make,  and  Esther  adding,  with  the  color 
sweeping  over  her  face,  "  Why,  that  is  splendid, 
perfectly  splendid !  I  can't  tell  you  how  glad  I  am." 

"  And  won't  you  have  to  work  your  way  any  more  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Elwell,  when  she  could  get  her  breath. 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  shall  have  to  turn  an  honest  penny 
for  myself  now  and  then,"  said  her  nephew,  smiling. 
"Tuition  doesn't  cover  all  the  expenses  by  a  good 
deal,  but  it's  a  big  help.  Why,  I  feel  quite  like  a 
nabob." 

The  name,  with  its  sudden  reminder  of  the  one 
to  whom  Tom  Saxon  had  mockingly  given  it  in  the 
summer,  made  Esther  laugh.  Morton  Elwell,  with 
his  brown  hands  and  common  suit  of  clothes,  did  not 
look  the  character  in  the  least. 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  you  are  not  a  nabob,"  she  said, 
meeting  his  eyes,  and  then  demurely  dropping  her 


IN  WHICH  SEVERAL  PEOPLE  GET  HOME.      327 

own.  "  Please  don't  go  on  to  be  one  so  fast  that  we 
can't  keep  up  with  you.  There  are  some  of  us  that 
like  the  old  ways  and  have  to  go  slow." 

His  face  kindled,  and  he  was  on  the  point  of  saying 
something,  when  his  aunt  spoke.  "  Now  you  chil- 
dren just  make  yourselves  at  home,"  she  said,  rising, 
"and  I'll  go  on  and  get  the  supper.  I  was  just  fixing 
to  make  some  biscuits  when  you  came,  Esther.  You'll 
stay  to  supper,  of  course." 

"  Oh,  I  must  go  home  in  a  minute,"  said  the  girl. 
For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  felt  a  sudden  timidity 
in  the  thought  of  a  tete-a-tete  with  Morton  Elwell. 
"  Mother'll  expect  me." 

"Now  what  makes  you  talk  like  that?"  said  Mrs. 
Elwell,  in  an  injured  tone.  "  Doesn't  she  know  where 
you  are  ?  Of  course  she  won't  expect  you.  She 
knows  I  wouldn't  let  you  go  home  before  supper. 
Why,  you  never  used  to  do  that  way,  and  it's  ever  so 
long  since  you  were  here." 

The  logic  was  unanswerable,  and  Esther  settled 
back  in  the  chair  from  which  she  had  half  risen. 
"  She'll  stay,  Aunt  Jenny,"  said  Morton,  and  he  added, 
smiling  at  Esther,  "weren't  you  just  saying  that  some 
of  us  liked  the  old  ways  ? " 

She  took  refuge  in  them  swiftly  when  they  were 
left  alone.  He  must  tell  her  all  about  himself,  about 


328  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

college,  what  he  had  done  to  gain  that  scholarship, 
and  what  else  he  had  done.  She  was  all  sympathy, 
all  interest,  with  all  the  old  responsiveness  in  her 
face,  and  he  yielded  himself  to  the  warmth  and  joy 
of  it  as  one  yields  to  spring  sunshine  after  the  cold. 
She  grew  easier  after  the  first,  and  presently  there 
was  no  chance  for  embarrassment  nor  for  confidences 
left;  for  the  senior  Elwell,  with  Morton's  young 
cousins,  came  into  the  room,  and  then  the  talk  grew 
general,  though  with  Morton  still  at  the  centre,  as 
was  the  newcomer's  right,  and  indeed  his  necessity' 
with  Esther  leading  him  on. 

She  was  at  her  best  —  winsome,  adroit,  and  deter- 
mined if  there  was  family  pride  in  this  uncle  of  his, 
it  should  bestir  itself  now.  She  had  grown  even 
prettier  than  she  used  to  be,  her  manners  even  more 
charming,  the  young  man  said  to  himself,  and  the 
bounding  happiness  in  her  heart  might  well  have 
made  it  true.  For  there  had  been  a  moment,  just 
that  moment  before  the  others  came  into  the  room, 
when  she  had  caught  sure  knowledge  of  the  thing 
she  had  longed  to  know. 

He  had  been  telling  her  of  an  oratorical  contest  in 
which  he  had  borne  a  part,  and,  with  a  sudden  tender- 
ness in  his  voice,  had  said,  "  I  wished  a  hundred  times, 
while  I  was  preparing  my  speech,  that  I  could  go  over 


IN  WHICH  SEVERAL  PEOPLE  GET  HOME.      329 

it  with  you.  Do  you  remember  how  you  always  used 
to  let  me  orate  to  you  when  I  had  anything  on  hand  for 
the  rhetoricals  ?  It  must  have  been  an  awful  bore,  but 
somehow  I  never  felt  as  if  I  could  go  on  the  stage 
without  your  help." 

"  And  you  see  you  didn't  need  it  after  all,"  she  said, 
looking  away.  "  You  won  the  medal  without  me." 

"  Oh,  but  it  wasn't  without  you,"  he  said,  leaning 
toward  her  and  speaking  low,  "  for  I  was  thinking  all 
the  time  what  you  would  say  if  I  won." 

Ah,  he  could  not  have  said  a  word  like  that  if  some 
other  girl  had  stolen  her  place  away ! 

The  talk  was  over  at  last,  and  the  supper  too,  the 
good  substantial  supper  which  was  always  spread  at 
the  Elwells'.  She  could  go  now.  There  was  no  for- 
mality to  insist  that  having  eaten  she  must  stay  still 
longer,  and  she  wanted  Morton  to  herself.  She  was 
quite  ready  for  it  now,  and  he  would  go  home  with  her 
of  course. 

They  had  come  back,  with  all  the  new  meaning  of  it 
for  each,  to  the  old  frankness  and  freedom,  and  yet  as 
they  took  the  familiar  path  across  the  fields,  in  the 
gathering  dusk,  it  was  not  easy  to  speak  the  thought 
that  filled  both  their  hearts.  They  talked  for  a  little 
while  of  indifferent  things  —  of  the  lengthening  days,  of 
the  buds  swelling  on  the  willows,  of  the  new  buildings 


33O  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

rising  on  a  neighbor's  place.  Then,  all  at  once  the 
moon,  the  friendly  moon,  so  kind  in  all  its  wanderings 
to  the  needs  of  lovers,  rose  up  in  the  sky.  It  was  a 
new  moon,  and  they  saw  it  at  the  same  moment  over 
their  right  shoulders. 

"  We  must  wish  a  wish,  as  we  used  to  when  we  were 
children,"  said  Esther,  gayly. 

There  could  never  be  another  moment  like  this.  He 
stood  suddenly  still,  and  his  eyes  looked  into  hers. 
"  Esther,"  he  said,  "  it  seems  to  me  I  have  only  one 
wish  in  the  world,  it  is  so  much  dearer  than  all  the 
others.  If  I  could  know,  if  I  could  surely  know  — 
and  then  he  stopped.  That  swelling  at  his  throat  which 
had  choked  him  once  before  mastered  his  voice  again, 
not  from  fear  now,  but  hope. 

She  waited  an  instant,  then,  as  her  hand  slipped  into 
his,  whispered,  "  Do  you  mean  me,  Mort  ?  Oh,  do  you 
mean  me  ? " 

It  had  never  taken  any  one  so  long  to  cross  that 
field  as  it  did  those  two  to  cross  the  little  space  that 
was  left.  There  was  no  bar  to  speech  now,  and  there 
was  so  much  to  say !  He  said  to  her  presently,  with  a 
note  of  perplexity  in  his  voice,  "  Esther,  I  have  never 
understood  why  you  gave  up  going  to  Boston  this  win- 
ter. You  certainly  wanted  very  much  to  go  at  first." 

"Things  changed  after  grandfather  died,"  she  said. 


IN  WHICH  SEVERAL  PEOPLE  GET  HOME.     331 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  then  took  refuge  in  the  for- 
mula she  had  used  so  often  to  the  others,  but  with  a 
clause  she  had  not  whispered  before,  as  she  added, 
"  Somehow  I  knew  there  was  nothing  I  really  wanted 
except  to  come  home  —  and  have  you  come  too." 

He  murmured  something  rapturous.  But  he  was 
not  quite  satisfied  yet.  After  a  little  he  said,  "  Esther, 
do  you  remember  telling  me  once  that  if  you  had 
half  a  chance  you'd  live  a  different  life  from  the 
common  workaday  sort ;  you'd  have  culture,  and 
leisure,  and  travel,  and  all  those  things  ?  You  did 
have  a  chance,  didn't  you  ?  " 

She  flushed.  "No  one  offered  it  to  me,"  she  said. 
"Perhaps  no  one  ever  would.  At  any  rate  —  "  her 
voice  sounded  nervous  but  happy  —  "if  'twas  'half  a 
chance,'  I  ran  away  from  the  other  half.  I  didn't 
want  anything  but  you,  Mort.  I  shall  have  whatever 
you  have,  and  that's  enough." 

He  threw  back  his  head  and  drew  a  long  breath. 
"  Oh,  I  mean  to  do  so  much  for  you,"  he  said.  "  It 
seems  to  me  I  can  accomplish  anything  now." 

There,  was  the  murmur  of  excited  talking  in  the 
sitting  room  at  the  Northmores'  when  they  opened  the 
door  at  last.  "Well,  of  all  the  strange  things  she 
ever  did,  I  call  that  the  strangest,"  the  doctor  was 
saying  in  the  tone  of  one  grappling  with  a  mystery. 


332  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

The  two  young  people  looked  at  each  other  won- 
dering. Then  Esther  said,  in  a  merry  whisper,  "He 
doesn't  mean  me.  He'll  think  I've  done  the  most  sen- 
sible thing  in  the  world." 

They  walked  toward  the  room,  and  the  next  moment 
Kate  was  in  the  hall  to  meet  them.  She  was  quite 
pale,  and  an  unusual  excitement  showed  in  her 
manner.  Even  the  sight  of  Morton  Elwell  seemed 
hardly  to  divert  her  preoccupation.  "  We  heard  you 
had  come,  and  I'm  so  glad,"  she  said.  Then,  turning 
to  her  sister,  she  exclaimed :  "  Esther,  the  strangest 
thing  you  ever  knew  has  happened.  Aunt  Katharine 
is  dead.  Mother  got  a  letter  just  now." 

"  Dead ! "  repeated  Esther.  It  did  not  cross  her 
mind  to  wonder  why  they  thought  this  thing  so 
strange.  The  fact  itself  filled  her  with  a  great  and 
sudden  sadness.  "Poor  dear  Aunt  Katharine!"  she 
said,  and  in  the  light  of  what  the  last  hour  had 
brought  to  herself  the  thought  of  all  the  brave  old 
heart  had  missed,  and  how  stanchly  she  had  borne 
it,  filled  her  with  a  new  love  and  pity.  "  How  did 
it  happen  ?" 

"She  died  suddenly,"  said  Kate.  "Aunt  Elsie 
wrote  about  it.  But  it  isn't  that.  It's  her  will !  Oh, 
you  can't  think  how  she's>  left  her  money.  It  seems 
as  if  she  couldn't  have  meant  it." 


IN  WHICH  SEVERAL  PEOPLE  GET  HOME.     333 

An  unmistakable  alarm  leaped  into  Esther  North- 
more's  eyes,  and  she  turned  suddenly  to  Morton 
Elwell.  "  We  were  great  friends,"  she  whispered, 
in  a  low  hurried  tone,  "  but  nothing,  nothing  could 
make  any  difference  now." 

Low  as  the  words  were  spoken,  Kate  caught  them. 
"Oh,  you  darlings!  you  darlings!"  she  cried,  throw- 
ing an  arm  round  the  neck  of  each.  Then,  between 
laughing  and  crying,  she  said  hysterically,  "  But  it 
isn't  you,  Esther,  that  she's  left  her  money  to.  It's 
me!  Think  of  it,  me!" 

"  You  !  "  ejaculated  Esther,  dropping  with  a  sudden 
limpness  against  Morton's  shoulder.  "  Did  she 
think  —  " 

Kate  pulled  her  toward  the  door.  The  preponder- 
ating note  in  her  voice  was  laughter  now.  "  Come 
and  hear  what  she  thinks." 

Even  Esther  could  not  wait  for  the  details  of  the 
letter  after  this.  Aunt  Katharine  had  gone  suddenly, 
as  she  always  hoped  she  might,  but  her  will,  which 
she  had  directed  to  be  read  at  once  upon  her  decease, 
was  a  far  greater  surprise  to  her  relatives.  After 
giving  careful  directions  for  her  funeral,  she  had 
made  her  bequests.  The  document  had  been  drawn 
up  before  her  brother's  death  (by  date  in  the  early 
fall),  and  her  farm,  which  joined  his,  had  been  left 


334  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

to  him,  as  a  permanent  part  of  the  Saxon  home- 
stead. To  certain  persons,  who  had  been  in  a  way 
dependent  on  her  kindness,  she  had  left  small  sums, 
among  them  Solomon  Ridgeway,  to  be  used  for  his 
support  and  comfort,  "  at  such  times  as  he  may  see 
fit  to  be  absent  from  his  present  residence."  (So  ran 
the  wording.)  To  a  certain  charitable  institution  she 
had  left  five  thousand  dollars.  To  Esther  Northmore, 
with  her  love,  some  personal  belongings,  and  these, 
as  the  girl  recognized  with  a  throb  at  her  heart,  were 
those  which  she  had  valued  most,  and  then  followed 
this  singular  passage. 

"  As  to  the  bulk  of  my  property,  it  has  sometimes 
crossed  my  mind  that  could  I  know  some  young 
woman  intelligently  devoted  to  the  securing  of  those 
rights  which  I  believe  must  be  accorded  to  women 
before  the  conditions  of  society  can  become  true  and 
sane,  and  willing  for  the  sake  of  these,  and  for  the 
sake  of  her  own  independence,  to  refrain  from  mar- 
riage, that  I  would  make  such  young  woman  my  heir. 
Circumstances  have,  however,  led  me  to  doubt  the 
probability  of  finding  such  a  one,  as  well  as  the  ex- 
pediency of  the  measure.  I,  therefore,  being  in  my 
right  mind  and  of  disposing  memory,  do  give  and 
bequeath  the  residue  of  my  property,  valued  at 
thirty-five  thousand  dollars,  to  my  grandniece  and 


IN    WHICH    SEVERAL    PEOPLE    GET    HOME.  335 

namesake,  Katharine  Saxon  Northmore,  who,  I  be- 
lieve, has  will  enough  of  her  own  to  pursue  whatever 
courses  she  may  see  fit,  in  spite  of  any  man  who 
might  be  bold  enough  to  marry  her.  And  to  the  gift  I 
add  this  request,  that  she  will  take  the  trouble  to  look 
candidly  into  those  views  which  I  have  maintained.  I  am 
confident  that  her  sister  Esther  will  not  misstate  them." 

A  minute  of  dead  silence  followed  the  reading. 
Then  the  doctor  burst  forth  again :  "  The  idea  of 
leaving  a  legacy  to  anybody  with  a  dig  like  that ! 
Why  couldn't  she  have  been  civil  about  it  if  she 
wanted  to  do  it  ?  Perhaps  her  notion  was  to  scare 
the  young  men  off  and  keep  Kate  single  after  all." 

But  Morton  Elwell  burst  out  laughing.  "  Not  a 
bit  of  it,"  he  said.  "  A  fellow  who  didn't  think  he 
was  mighty  lucky  to  get  Kate  on  any  terms  wouldn't 
deserve  to  have  her,  and  the  old  lady  knew  it.  Kate, 
I  call  this  glorious !  "  and  he  caught  her  and  whirled 
her  around  the  room  at  a  rate  which  left  them  both 
breathless. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  'tis,  father,"  she  began,  with  a 
gasp,  when  they  had  fairly  stopped.  "  I  don't  intend 
to  have  the  name  without  the  game,  and  I  mean  to 
begin  to  use  that  money  as  I  please,  right  away. 
We'll  pay  off  that  mortgage  that  has  bothered  you 
so,  the  very  first  thing." 


336  WHEAT    AND    HUCKLEBERRIES. 

"Nonsense,"  said  the  doctor;    but  she  went  on:  — 

"And  maybe,  when  I  get  through  the  rest  of  my 
schooling,  I'll  take  a  course  in  medicine.  I  always 
thought  I  should  like  to  be  a  doctor.  Don't  you 
think  '  Northmore  and  Northmore '  would  look  well 
over  your  office  ? " 

"  Nonsense,"  he  said  again,  this  time  more  sternly. 
But  he  had  been  known  to  say  "  nonsense "  before 
to  some  plans  which  his  girls  carried  out. 

And  after  a  while  — "  How  far  do  thirty-five  thou- 
sand dollars  go  ?  I  might  do  something  handsome 
by  Mort  and  Esther,"  she  added,  sending  a  sly  look 
at  the  two  young  people. 

Their  sudden  blushes  told  the  rest  of  the  story. 

"Well,  well!"  said  the  doctor,  laying  down  the 
paper,  "  how  things  are  heaping  up  to-night !  "  He 
sent  a  glance  at  his  wife,  and  the  look  in  her  eyes 
made  his  own  grow  moist.  "  My  dear,"  he  said, 
"this  is  a  pretty  good  world  of  ours,  after  all.  I 
don't  pretend  to  understand  what  the  cranks  are  driv- 
ing at,  but  I  rather  think  there  are  some  of  the  old 
ways  that'll  keep  it  sweet  yet." 


W.  A.    Wilde  Company,  Publishers. 


RE  VOL  UTIONAR  Y  MAID.  A  Story  of  the  Mid- 
dle Period  of  the  War  for  Independence.  BY  AMY  E.  BLAN- 
CHARD.  321  pp.  Cloth,  $1.50. 

The  stirring  times  in  and  around  New  York  following  the  pulling  down  of  the  statue 
of  George  the  Third  by  the  famous  "  Liberty  Boys,"  brings  to  the  surface  the  patriotism 
of  the  young  heroine  of  the  story.  This  act  of  the  New  York  patriots  obliged  Kitty 
De  Witt  to  decide  whether  she  would  be  a  Tory  or  a  Revolutionary  maid,  and  a  patriot 
good  and  true  she  became.  Her  many  and  various  experiences  are  very  interestingly 
pictured,  making  this  a  happy  companion  book  to  "  A  Girl  of  "76." 

CTHE  GOLDEN  TALISMAN.     BY  H.  PHELPS  WHIT- 

JL          MARSH.       300  pp.       Cloth,  $I.5O. 

The  narrative  is  based  upon  the  adventures  of  a  young  Persian  noble,  who,  being 
forced  to  leave  his  own  country,  leads  an  army  against  the  mysterious  mountain  kingdom 
of  Kaffirias.  Though  defeated  and  taken  prisoner  by  the  enemy,  the  hero's  talisman 
saves  his  life  and,  later,  leads  him  into  kingly  favor. 

A  valuable  fund  of  information  regarding  the  various  plants,  woods,  and  animals 
which  furnish  the  world  with  perfume  is  happily  interwoven  into  the  story. 

'HEAT  AND  HUCKLEBERRIES;  Dr.  North- 
mare's  Daughters.  BY  CHARLOTTE  M.  VAILE.  336  pp. 
Cloth,  $1.50. 

Mrs.  Vaile  has  drawn  the  characters  for  her  new  book  from  the  Middle  West.  But 
as  the  two  girls  spent  their  summer  at  their  grandfather's  in  New  England,  a  capital 
groundwork  is  furnished  'for  giving  the  local  color  of  both  sections  of  the  country. 
The  story  is  bright  and  spirited  and  the  two  girls  are  sure  to  find  their  place  among  the 
favorite  characters  in  fiction.  All  those  who  have  read  the  Orcutt  stones  will  welcome 
this  new  book  by  Mrs.  Vaile. 


W 


:fTH  PERR  Y  ON  LAKE  ERIE.    A  Tale  of  1812. 

BY  JAMES  OTIS.     307  pp.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

The  story  carries  the  reader  from  March  until  October  of  1813,  being  laid  on  Lake 
Erie,  detailing  the  work  of  the  gallant  Perry,  who  at  the  time  of  his  famous  naval  victory 
was  but  twenty-seven  years  of  age.  From  the  time  the  keels  of  the  vessels  which  be- 
came famous  were  laid  until  the  victory  was  won  which  made  Perry's  name  imperish- 
able, the  reader  is  kept  in  close  touch  with  all  that  concerned  Perry,  and  not  only  the 
main  facts  but  the  minor  details  of  the  story  are  historically  correct. 

Just  the  kind  of  historical  story  that  young  people  —  boys  especially —  are  intensely 
interested  in. 


B 


A  REAR  A' S  HERITAGE;  or,  Young  Americans 
Among  the  Old  Italian  Masters.  BY  D.  L.  HOYT.  325  pp. 
Cloth,  $1.50. 

We  welcome  a  book  from  the  pen  of  Miss  Hoyt,  whose  foreign  travel  and  study 
has  made  possible  an  exceedingly  interesting  story,  into  which  has  been  interwoven 
much  instructive  and  valuable  information. 

With  a  desire  to  broaden  the  education  of  her  son  and  daughter  by  the  opportunities 
afforded  in  foreign  travel,  an  American  mother  takes  them  to  Italy,  and  the  author  in  a 
very  happy  strain  has  given  us  their  many  experiences.  Replete  with  numerou0  !llus- 
trations  and  half-tones,  it  makes  a  handsome  and  attractive  volume. 

W.  A.    Wilde  Company,  Boston  and  Chicago. 

i 


W.  A.    Wilde  Company,  Publishers. 


CrtfE  QUEEN'S  £  ANGERS.     BY  CHARLES  LED  YARD 
-£       NORTON.    352  pp.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

The  thrilling  period  during  the  last  years  of  our  struggle  for  independence  forms  the 
groundwork  for  Colonel  Norton's  latest  work. 

The  intense  patriotism  which  prompted  our  young  men  to  do  and  dare  anything  for 
their  country  is  shown  in  the  exploits  of  the  three  young  heroes. 

By  enlisting  for  a  time  beneath  His  Majesty's  flag  they  were  able  to  give  much  valu- 
able information  to  the  colonial  cause. 

With  historical  truth  the  author  in  this,  his  latest  book,  has  happily  coupled  an  ex- 
ceedingly interesting  and  instructive  story. 

rHE  ROMANCE  OF  CONQUEST.  The  Story  of 
American  Expansion  through  Arms  and  Diplomacy.  BY  WIL- 
LIAM E.  GRIFFIS.  312  pp.  Cloth,  $1.50. 

In  concise  form  it  is  the  story  of  American  expansion  from  the  birth  of  the  nation  to 
the  present  day. 

The  reader  will  find  details  of  every  war.  Anecdote  enlivens  the  story  from  July  4, 
1776,  down  to  the  days  of  Dewey,  Sampson,  and  Schley,  and  of  Miles,  Merritt,  Shatter, 
and  Otis.  It  is  a  book  as  full  of  rapid  movement  as  a  novel. 

J I/HEN  BOSTON  BRA  VED  THE  KING.     A  Story 
rV      of  Tea-Party  Times.     BY  W.  E.  BARTON,  D.   D.     314  pp. 
Cloth,  $1.50. 

One  of  the  most  absorbing  stories  ot  the  Colonial-Revolutionary  period  published. 
The  author  is  perfectly  at  home  with  his  subject,  and  the  story  will  be  one  of  the  popu- 
lar books  of  the  year. 

"  Though  largely  a  story  of  boys  and  for  boys,  it  has  the  liveliest  interest  for  all 
classes  of  readers,  and  makes  a  strong  addition  to  Dr.  Barton's  already  notable  series 
of  historical  tales." —  Christian  Endeavor  World. 

"  It  is  a  pleasure  to  read  and  to  recommend  such  a  book  as  this.  In  fact,  we  must 
say  at  the  very  beginning,  that  Dr.  Barton  is  becoming  one  of  the  most  skilful  and  enjoy- 
able of  American  story-tellers." — Boston  Journal. 

f^ADET  STAND  ISH  OF  THE  ST.  L  O  UIS.     A  Story 
O     of  Our    Naval    Campaign    in    Cuban    Waters.     BY  WILLIAM 
DRYSDALE.     352  pp.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

A  strong,  stirring  story  of  brave  deeds  bravely  done.  A  vivid  picture  of  one  of  the 
most  interesting  and  eventful  periods  of  the  late  Spanish  War. 

"  It  is  what  the  boys  are  likely  to  call  '  a  rattling  good  story.'  "  —  Cleveland  Plain 
Dealer. 

"  Mr.  Drysdale  has  drawn  an  effective  picture  of  the  recent  war  with  Spain  in  his  new 
book.  The  story  is  full  of  dash  and  fire  without  being  too  sensational."  —  Cong-re- 
gationalist. 

/I  DA  UGHTER  OF  THE   WEST.     The  Story  of  an 
^1     American  Princess.     BY  EVELYN  RAYMOND.     347  pp.     Cloth, 
$1.50. 

Interesting,  wholesome,  and  admirable  in  every  way  is  Mrs.  Raymond's  latest  story 
for  girls.  Descriptions  of  California  life  are  one  of  the  fascinations  of  the  book. 

"  A  well-written  story  of  Western  life  and  adventure,  which  has  for  its  heroine  a 


brave,  high-minded  girl."—  Chronicle  Telegraph,  Pittsburg. 

"  Laid  among  the  broad  valleys  and  lofty  mountains  of  California  every 
crowded  full  of  most  interesting  experiences."— Christian  Endeavor  World. 

W.  A.    Wilde  Company,  Boston  and  Chicago. 
8 


IV.   A.    Wilde  Company,  Publishers. 


War  of  the  Revolution  Series. 

By  Everett  T.  Tomlinson. 

rHREE  COLONIAL  BOYS.     A  Story  of  the  Times 
of  '76.     368  pp.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

It  is  a  story  of  three  boys  who  were  drawn  into  the  events  of  the  times,  is  patriotic, 
exciting,  clean,  and  healthful,  and  instructs  without  appearing  to.  The  heroes  are 
manly  boys,  and  no  objectionable  language  or  character  is  introduced.  The  lessons  of 
courage  and  patriotism  especially  will  be  appreciated  in  this  day.  — Boston  Transcript. 

rHREE   YOUNG  CONTINENTALS.     A    Story   of 
the  American  Revolution.     364  pp.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

This  story  is  historically  true.  It  is  the  best  kind  of  a  story  either  for  boys  or  girls, 
and  is  an  attractive  method  of  teaching  history. — Journal  of  Education,  Boston. 

TlfASfflNGTON'S  YOUNG  AIDS.     A  Story  of  the 
rr        New  Jersey  Campaign,  1776-1777.     391  pp.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

The  book  has  enough  history  and  description  to  give  value  to  the  story  which  ought 
to  captivate  enterprising  boys.  —  Quarterly  Book  Review. 

The  historical  details  of  the  story  are  taken  from  old  records.  These  include 
accounts  of  the  life  on  the  prison  ships  and  prison  houses  of  New  York,  the  raids  of  the 
pine  robbers,  the  tempting  of  the  Hessians,  the  end  of  Fagan  and  his  band,  etc.  — 
Publisher's  Weekly. 

Few  boys'  stories  of  this  class  show  so  close  a  study  of  history  combined  with  such 
genial  story-telling  power.  —  The  Outlook. 

rWO   YOUNG  PATRIOTS.     A  Story  of  Burgoyne's 
Invasion.     366pp.     Cloth,  $1.50. 


colonies  asunder  and  join  another  British  army  which  was  to  proceed  up  the  valley  of 
the  Hudson.  The  American  forces  were  brave,  hard  fighters,  and  they  worried  and 
harassed  the  British  and  finally  defeated  them.  The  history  of  this  campaign  is  one 
of  great  interest  and  is  well  brought  out  in  the  part  which  the  "  two  young  patriots" 
took  in  the  events  which  led  up  to  the  surrender  of  General  Burgoyne  and  his  army. 

The  set  of  four  volumes  in  a  box,  $6.00. 


OUCCESS.  BY  ORISON  SWETT  MARDEN.  Author  of 
O  "Pushing  to  the  Front,"  "Architects  of  Fate,"  etc.  317  pp. 
Cloth,  $1.25. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  any  success  books  for  the  young  have  appeared  in  modern 
times  which  are  so  thoroughly  packed  from  lid  to  lid  with  stimulating,  uplifting,  and  in- 
spiring material  as  the  self-help  books  written  by  Orison  Swett  Marden.  There  is  not  a 
dry  paragraph  nor  a  single  line  of  useless  moralizing  in  any  of  his  books. 

To  stimulate,  inspire,  and  guide  is  the  mission  of  his  latest  book,  "  Success,"  and 
helpfulness  is  its  keynote.  Its  object  is  to  spur  the  perplexed  youth  to  act  the  Columbus 
to  his  own  undiscovered  possibilities  ;  to  urge  him  not  to  wait  for  great  opportunities, 
but  to  seize  common  occasions  and  make  them  great,  for  he  cannot  tell  when  fate  may 
take  his  measure  for  a  higher  place. 

W,  A.    Wilde  Company,  Boston  and  Chicago. 


W.  A.    Wilde  Company,  Publisher . 


Brain  and  Brawn  Series. 

By  William  Drysdale. 

rHE   YOUNG  REPORTER.     A    Story   of    Printing 
House  Square.     300  pp.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

I  commend  the  book  unreservedly.  —  Goldcil  Rule. 

"  The  Young  Reporter"  is  a  rattling  book  for  boys.  — Ne-.v  York  Recorder. 

The  best  boys'  book  I  ever  read.  —  Mr.  Phillips,  Critic  for  New  York  Times. 

rHE  FAST  MAIL,     A  Story  of  a  Train  Boy.    328  pp. 
Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  The  Fast  Mail "  is  one  of  the  very  best  American  books  for  boys  brought  out  this 
season.  Perhaps  there  could  be  no  better  confirmation  of  this  assertion  than  the  fact 
that  the  little  sons  of  the  present  writer  have  greedily  devoured  the  contents  of  the  vol- 
ume, and  are  anxious  to  know  how  soon  they  are  to  get  a  sequel.  —  The  Art  Amateur, 
New  York. 

CT>HE  BEACH  PATROL.     A  Story  of  the  Life-Saving 
_/       Service.     318  pp.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

The  style  of  narrative  is  excellent,  the  lesion  inculcated  of  the  best,  and,  above  all, 
the  boys  and  girls  are  real.  —  New  York  Times. 

A  book  of  adventure  and  daring,  which  should  delight  as  well  as  stimulate  to  higher 
ideals  of  life  every  boy  who  is  so  happy  as  to  possess  it.  —  Examiner. 

It  is  a  strong  book  for  boys  and  young  men.  —  Buffalo  Commercial. 


T 


HE    YOUNG    SUPERCARGO.      A    Story   of   the 
Merchant  Marine.     352  pp.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

Kit  Silburn  is  a  real  "  Brain  and  Brawn  "  boy,  full  of  sense  and  grit  and  sound 
good  qualities.  Determined  to  make  his  way  in  life,  and  with  no  influential  friends  to 
give  him  a  start,  he  does  a  deal  of  hard  work  between  the  evening  when  he  first  meets 
the  stanch  Captain  Griffith,  and  the  proud  day  when  he  becomes  purser  of  a  great 
ocean  steamship.  His  sea  adventures  are  mostly  on  shore;  but  whether  he  is  cleaning 
the  cabin  of  the  North  Cape,  or  landing  cargo  in  Yucatan,  or  hurrying  the  spongers 
and  fruitmen  of  Nassau,  or  exploring  London,  or  sight  seeing  with  a  disguised  prince 
in  Marseilles,  he  is  always  the  same  busy,  thoroughgoing,  manly  Kit.  Whether  or  not 
he  has  a  father  alive  is  a  question  of  deep  interest  throughout  the  story ;  but  that  he 
has  a  loving  and  loyal  sister  is  plain  from  the  start. 

The  set  of  four  volumes  in  a  box,  $6.00. 


&ERAPH,    THE   LITTLE    VIOLINISTE.     BY  MRS. 
O     C,  V.  JAMIESON.     300  pp.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

The  scene  of  the  story  is  the  French  quarter  of  New  Orleans,  and  charming  bits  of 
local  color  add  to  its  attractiveness.  —  The  Boston  Jour  mil. 

Perhaps  the  most  charming  story  she  has  ever  written  is  that  which  describes  Seraph, 
the  little  violiniste.  —  Transcript,  Boston. 


W.  A.    Wilde  Company,  Boston  and  Chicago. 
iv 


W.  A.    Wilde  Company,  Publishers. 


Travel-Adventure  Series. 


'N  WILD  AFRICA.    Adventures  of  Two  Boys  in  the 
Sahara  Desert,  etc.    BY  THOS.  W.  KNOX.    325  pp.    Cloth,  $1.50. 

A  story  of  absorbing  interest.  —  Boston  Journal. 

Our  young  people  will  pronounce  it  unusually  good.  —  Albany  Argus. 

Col.  Knox  has  struck  a  popular  note  in  his  latest  volume.  —  Spring  field  Republican. 

rHE  LAND  OF  THE  KANGAROO.  BY  THOS. 
W.  KNOX.  Adventures  of  Two  Boys  in  the  Great  Island  Con- 
tinent. 318  pp.  Cloth,  $1.50. 

His  descriptions  of  the  natural  history  and  botany  of  the  country  are  very  interest- 
Ing.  —  Detroit  Free  Press. 

The  actual  truthfulness  of  the  book  needs  no  gloss  to  add  to  its  absorbing  interest. — 
The  Book  Buyer,  New  York, 

VER    THE   ANDES;  or,  Our  Boys  in  New  South 

America.  BY  HEZEKIAH  BUTTERWORTH.  368  pp.  Cloth, 
$1.50. 

No  writer  of  the  present  century  has  done  more  and  better  service  than  Hezekiah 
Butterworth  in  the  production  of  helpful  literature  for  the  young.  In  this  volume  he 
writes,  in  his  own  fascinating  way,  of  a  country  too  little  known  by  American  readers. — 
Christian  Work. 

Mr.  Butterworth  is  careful  of  his  historic  facts,  and  then  he  charmingly  interweaves 
his  quaint  stories,  legends,  and  patriotic  adventures  as  few  writers  can.  —  Chicago  Inter- 
Ocean, 

The  subject  is  an  inspiring  one,  and  Mr.  Butterworth  has  done  full  justice  to  the 
high  ideals  which  have  inspired  the  men  of  South  America.  —  Religious  Telescope. 

OST  IN  NICARAGUA  ;  or,  The  Lands  of  the  Great 
Canal.  BY  HEZEKIAH  BUTTERWORTH.  295  pp.  Cloth,  $1.50. 

The  book  pictures  the  wonderful  land  of  Nicaragua  and  continues  the  story  of  the 
travelers  whose  adventures  in  South  America  are  related  in  "  Over  the  Andes."  In  this 
companion  book  to  "  Over  the  Andes,"  one  of  the  boy  travelers  who  goes  into  the 
Nicaraguan  forests  in  search  of  a  quetzal,  or  the  royal  bird  of  the  Aztecs,  falls  into  an 
ancient  idol  cave,  and  is  rescued  in  a  remarkable  way  by  an  old  Mosquito  Indian.  The 
narrative  is  told  in  such  a  way  as  to  give  the  ancient  legends  of  Guatemala,  the  story  of 
the  chieftain,  Nicaragua,  the  history  of  the  Central  American  Republics,  and  the  natural 
history  of  the  wonderlands  of  the  ocelot,  the  conger,  parrots,  and  monkeys. 

Since  the  voyage  of  the  Oregon,  of  13,000  miles  to  reach  Key  West  the  American 
people  have  seen  what  would  be  the  value  of  the  Nicaragua  Canal.  The  book  gives  the 
history  of  the  projects  for  the  canal,  and  facts  about  Central  America,  and  a  part  of  it 
was  written  in  Costa  Rica.  It  enters  a  new  field. 

The  set  of  four  volumes  in  a  box,  $6.00. 


L 


UARTERDECK    AND     FOK'SLE.     BY    MOLLY 
ELLIOTT  SEAWELL.    272  pp.    Cloth,  #1.25. 


Miss  Seawell  has  done  a  notable  work  for  the  young  people  of  our  country  in  her 
excellent  stories  of  naval  exploits.  They  are  of  the  kind  that  causes  the  reader,  no 
matter  whether  young  or  old,  to  thrill  with  pride  and  patriotism  at  the  deeds  of  daring 
•f  the  heroes  of  our  navy. 


W.  A.    Wilde  Compai*y,  Boston  and  Chicago. 
v 


W.  A.    Wilde  Company,  Publishers. 


Fighting  for  the  Flag  Series. 

By  Chas.  Ledyard  Norton. 


CV 
J 


BENSON'S  LOG ;  or,  Afloat  with  the  Flag  in 
'61.     281  pp.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

An  unusually  interesting  historical  story,  and  one  that  will  arouse  the  loyal  impulses 
of  every  American  boy  and  girl.  The  story  is  distinctly  superior  to  anything  ever 
attempted  along  this  line  before.  —  The  Independent. 

A  story  that  will  arouse  the  loyal  impulses  of  every  American  boy  and  girl.  —  The 
Press, 

MEDAL  OF  HONOR  MAN;  or,  Cruising  Among 
Blockade  Runners,     280  pp.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

A  bright,  breezy  sequel  to  "  Jack  Benson's  Log."  The  book  has  unusual  literary 
excellence.  —  The  Book  Buyer,  New  York. 

A  stirring  story  for  boys.  —  The  Journal,  Indianapolis. 

MIDSHIPMAN  JACK.     290  pp.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

•*•  '-*-  Jack  is  a  delightful  hero,  and  the  author  has  made  his  experiences  and  ad- 
ventures seem  very  real.  —  Congregationalist. 

It  is  true  historically  and  full  of  exciting  war  scenes  and  adventures.  —  Outlook. 

A  stirring  story  of  naval  service  in  the  Confederate  waters  during  the  late  war.  — 
Presbyterian. 

The  set  of  three  volumes  in  a  box,  $3.75. 


GIRL  OF  '76.    BY  AMY  E.  BLANCHARD.    331   pp. 
Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  A  Girl  of  '76  "  lays  its  scene  in  and  around  Boston  where  the  principal  events  of 
the  early  period  of  the  Revolution  were  enacted.  Elizabeth  Hall,  the  heroine,  is  the 
daughter  of  a  patriot  who  is  active  in  the  defense  of  his  country.  The  story  opens  with 
a  scene  in  Charlestown,  where  Elizabeth  Hall  and  her  parents  live.  The  emptying  of 
the  tea  in  Boston  Harbor  is  the  means  of  giving  the  little  girl  her  first  strong  impression 
as  to  the  seriousness  of  her  father's  opinions,  and  causes  a  quarrel  between  herself  and 
her  schoolmate  and  playfellow,  Amos  Dwight. 


A 


SOLDIER    OF  THE   LEGION.     BY  CHAS.  LED- 
YARD NORTON.    300  pp.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

Two  boys,  a  Carolinian  and  a  Virginian,  born  a  few  years  apart  during  the  last  half 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  afford  the  groundwork  for  the  incidents  of  this  tale. 

The  younger  of  the  two  was  William  Henry  Harrison,  sometime  President  of  the 
United  States,  and  the  elder,  his  companion  and  faithful  attendant  through  life,  was 
Carolinus  Bassett,  Sergeant  of  the  old  First  Infantry,  and  in  an  irregular  sort  of  a  way 
Captain  of  Virginian  Horse.  He  it  is  who  tells  the  story  a  few  years  after  President 
Harrison's  death,  his  granddaughter  acting  as  critic  and  amanuensis. 

The  story  has  to  do  with  the  early  days  of  the  Republic,  when  the  great,  wild,  un- 
known West  was  beset  by  dangers  on  every  hand,  and  the  Government  at  Washington 
was  at  its  wits'  end  to  provide  ways  and  means  to  meet  the  perplexing  problems  of 
national  existence. 

W.  A.    Wilde  Company,  Boston  and  Chicago. 


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